


Caliginous | Darth Maul x Reader

by bonesaldente



Series: A Story of Luminous Darkness [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Reader, LOTS of violence, Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Reader-Insert, brief implications of sexual violence (not against reader), i don't understand how tags work and at this point i'm too scared to ask, only one chapter that is actually explicit the rest would be M, they are both kind of touch starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:27:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 47,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24308185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesaldente/pseuds/bonesaldente
Summary: You are a contract killer. After one particular job for somebody who you think is a Sith lord, you unwillingly get caught up in his quest to rid the galaxy of the Jedi and establish total domination for the Sith. The more time you two spend with each other, however, the closer you get. Complications ensue - can you fight them while giving in to passion?_____(sexual content is limited to one scene that you can skip if you want to)*set before and during the events of the Phantom Menace
Relationships: Darth Maul/Reader, darth maul x reader - Relationship
Series: A Story of Luminous Darkness [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976836
Comments: 152
Kudos: 292





	1. The Hitwoman

ca·lig·i·nous

_adjective_

_Dark, dim, or misty._

\------

You hold your breath. A good 20 feet before you stands the target, an insectoid from Geonosis, its wing adorned back turned to you. You are far out in the forest, nobody close enough to witness the crime that is about to happen.

_Rule number 1: No witnesses_

The creature now bends down to pick another mushroom - they have been in high demand recently because of their freshly discovered effects on the brain, and the insectoid is just one of many spice traders who are trying to profit off it. It’s the reason you have been hired, you think.

_Rule number 2: No questions about the motive_

Slowly, careful as to not rustle any leaves, you lift your dagger. One quick slit through the throat and it will be over, as the rules demand. You are about to jump forward and finish the job, when a bird behind you decides to break the silence and cry as if it were being murdered itself. 

The Geonosian spins around and immediately spots you as you lunge forward to try and keep your advantage, but it’s too late. He jumps aside and you just barely miss him, cursing under your breath as he starts running away. 

You run after him, slowing your steps as you realize which way he is going. Subtly grinning to yourself, you put the dagger back into its holster, taking out the machete that’s on your back. 

He is running towards the river. The insectoid, from the planet that’s basically a desert, is unknowingly running towards the only source of water in a 100 miles radius. 

You pick up the speed again, not wanting to lose sight of it. The sound of water flowing is already in your ears and you can see the target again, still running towards the water. Running so fast you could almost think it knew how to…

_...swim._

You very nearly cry out in anger as you watch it jump into the water without hesitation, breaking into a full sprint to catch up to it. Geonosians can’t swim, right? Their bodies aren’t made for activities like this, unless… 

Your jaw clenches as the realization hits you. There is exactly one subspecies of Geonosians that knows how to swim, and it makes up less than 5 percent of their population, a detail that the _client_ certainly mentioned, but _Magnus_ chose to deem irrelevant for you. 

_Rule number 3: No unfinished jobs_

You sigh as you jump into the water as well, letting it pull you into its cold, all-encompassing embrace. Diving, you can see the target that’s been underwater for well over thirty seconds, indicating it -unlike you- has some kind of device that supplies it with oxygen. You start swimming towards it, all the while holding your breath and trying to calm your quick heart rate to increase the time you get before you need to come back up. The Geonosian is too focused on swimming away to realize that you are following it and getting closer with every second. You reach out with one hand, so close to grabbing the little device in its mouth, when it suddenly turns its body to face you and punches you in the face, the water slowing down your movements too much for you to block it. You see stars, both from the impact and the fact you are slowly running out of oxygen, but nevertheless you face it again and try to move its attention away from protecting its face and on the little blade you pull out with your left hand. You try to get a slice at its guts, and as it grabs your wrist in defense, you reach out with your right arm again and manage to rip the device from its mouth, immediately moving to get back to the land. 

Air streams into your lungs as you break through the water surface, a gasp leaving your lips while you pull yourself on land on the root of a tree that has grown half into the river. You don't wait, but position yourself on one knee and take out your blaster, watching the rippling surface attentively.

It will have to reveal itself from the security of the tainted water soon, now that its breath is running out. It can only be a matter of seconds…

 _There._ Bubbles appear on the water surface, and a few seconds later, that weird, bony head follows. 

You take the shot and it goes straight through its skull, blue blood mixing with the brownish water around it.

At last you allow your body to relax somewhat, flopping down on the forest ground and leaning your back against the trunk of a tree.

“I better get paid extra for this,” you mumble as you unlock the beeping comlink on your wrist. It must be Magnus, wondering why it’s taking you so long to check in.

“Yes?” You answer the call annoyedly, still angered that he forgot to tell you something so crucial.

“You need to come to Felicia’s. Right now”

“Can’t this wait? I only got done just now and I-”

“No. Meet me right away. This is important.” He hangs up before you can retaliate.

You pull your drenched hair in frustration with one hand while bringing down the pointy tip of your dagger on an unsuspecting bug crawling over the leaves beside you. A string of curses leaves your mouth before you pull yourself up again and head back through the forest to where your speeder is hidden.

The ride to Felicia’s is shorter than one might think. The shady cantina is located just at the edge of the city, easily accessible from most places, but far enough away from where the action happens to be relatively empty most of the time - which is why the _Concinnity_ chooses to do its business there quite often. Seeing as you are a guild of contract killers, you do need to switch locations frequently, but occasionally you still come back there. And today appears to be one of those occasions.

While you jump off your speeder, you wonder why Magnus would want you to come here. Usually, he meets with the client ahead of time and just assigns one of you to do the job at your headquarters, providing you with the information necessary (or not, apparently). It is rare that you even get to meet the client, which is more than fine with you. You value your privacy, and it’s not like the type of people who hire the likes of you make for the most pleasant company.

The wind and constant heat of Kessel did little to dry you off: You are still soaking wet, your hair clings to your face, and with every step you take, water drips on the ground.

Fuming with anger at Magnus for withholding important information and not even giving you time to dry off at your apartment, you push the door to the cantina open, squinting to make out the figures spread out across the dark room, the only fleck of color the reddish wood that makes up the floor. You hardly even notice anymore how the cantina folk tenses up and quickly looks away from you once they see your attire; it is a known fact that around these parts, people who wear more than two blasters are not to be messed with, because they are most likely _professionals_. It takes you a moment, but then you spot Magnus sitting at a table in a corner, a cloaked figure accompanying him. Your anger boils up again when you see his face. Sometimes he seems to forget whom he is ordering around like a dog. You are a _trained killer,_ yet he treats you like his employee, somebody who runs errands for him - an inconvenience at times, nothing more. 

Maybe he could use a reminder of how easy it would be to dispose of him. Hell, he didn’t even notice you entered the building, it is a miracle he is still alive in this field of work.

He definitely needs a reminder.

You move just a little bit closer and pull out one of the short throwing knives that you keep hidden on your backside, strapped to the inside of your belt. You study the roughly 4-inch weapon in your hand before adjusting your grip on it and aiming. Right at this moment he is dangling a chain from his fingers in front of his hooded partner. It’s the _Concinnity_ badge, a proof of your reliability, a promise to integrity. 

You calculate the strength and throw the knife. 

It bores into the wooden wall behind them with deadly precision, pierced through the leather band of the chain that he had hanging from his fingers seconds ago. Even from your distanced position you can hear his yelp, which is satisfying but still doesn’t quite still the anger in you. 

Both heads whip around to face the attacker, but when Magnus recognizes you, the look of fear turns to sheepishness. Your jaw clenches and you stride towards them. 

“There you are!” He claps his hands together in his usual, eccentric demeanor.

“You!” You press out. “You said the target was Geonosian. You didn’t mention it was that type from the north!”

He raises his eyebrows in confusion. “I’m not following. What kind is that?”

“The kind that swims!” you spit out. There is a puddle forming where you are standing, and your wet gear, which is already heavy as it is, feels about ten times heavier now that it’s wet. You are pretty sure all of the detonators on your belt are completely busted, and only the maker knows how many gadgets you have lost in the river water. But most of all, you hate, _hate_ , Magnus more than anything at this very moment, dry and comfortable, a pouch with credits set in front of him.

“That is unfortunate.” He merely says, while attempting to pull the knife out of the wall. “Take a seat.”

You grab a chair and position it at the table. Magnus hands you your knife, which you promptly sink into the table as a last outlet of your fury.

“This is your next client. My lord, this is _her_ , she is our best… asset,” he grins conspiratorially. You give him an irritated side-glance.

Then, for the first time, you actually face the client. His hood hides most of his face, but you can see red skin and black marks that cover at least the lower half of his face. He moves his head ever so slightly in acknowledgment.

“The target is Galenos Tallav,” Magnus continues. Your breath catches in your throat, a spark inside you ignited again. How _dare he_ \- “and the time is pressing. You need to finish this job in a week, the sooner you can do it, the better.”

You stare at him, silently cursing him in every language you know. That bastard wants to test you and your loyalty, he is mocking you with this obvious-

“Now, I know what you think,” he lowers his voice, “but I only chose you for this assignment, because the time is so pressing, and I know you can do it in the time frame. Also, the pay well compensates for it, trust me.” 

You look at him darkly, the name of the target still reverberating through your head and bringing up sore memories. Memories he _knows_ of.

“Fine.”

“Perfect!” He looks overjoyed, way too eager to accept this task. This client, the man with the hood, truly must be paying very well.

“Let’s get to the details, then. You are of course in charge, but _I_ suggest you try sneaking in disguised as a slave, you know how many-” You interrupt him with a curse in our native language, which you assume the client does not speak, judging by the fact we have been speaking Basic up until this point.

With the characteristic hissing of your own language you remind him that _he_ made sure many years ago you would never, ever be able to be disguised as a slave. Back then, when he decided to punish you by having all these marks etched into your skin- skin you would have to show as a slave.

How could he forget all the cruelties you had to endure under his watch so easily?

He shrugs, yet another infuriating habit of his, and raises his hands defensively. Switching back to Basic, he says, “A different plan, then. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” He gets up from the chair, grabbing the pouch on the table while leaving. “I have business to attend to”. He turns his back to you, about to head out, when he spins around again. “That is, if you’ve finished the job?”

What a stupid question. “Of course I finished the job!” you snap. “But that wasn’t thanks to you and your unreliable distribution of information. We’ll talk later.” You try to make the last part sound threatening, but he is not impressed. That’s what happens when your boss has basically raised you since you were a toddler.

Once he is completely out of earshot, you abruptly turn to face the man in front of you, taking in his appearance properly now. He is wearing many layers of clothing, which, considering Kessel’s hot climate, clearly makes him an outsider. You can see the beginning of a wide belt, but it’s not a utility belt like the one you are wearing. The only thing clasped to it is… A silver handle?

You narrow your eyes, staring where you presume his eyes are.

“What are you?” It’s hard to tell whether he is taken aback by the bold question. You suppose there are other reasons why you typically have minimal client contact. “The Jedi are not welcome here, you know,” you say, slowly moving your eyes back to where you spotted what you are sure is a lightsaber.

“I am no Jedi.” His voice is surprisingly soothing, but his face is scrunched up into a snarl. You wonder how else he would have acquired a lightsaber, but remember that the _Concinnity_ possesses one too - locked up in the weapon chamber and not cleared for taking on missions, but they have one. It was taken from a Jedi in a fight by one of their own a few years back; you remember getting to try it out before it was confiscated.

You don’t push the matter any further and lean back in a more relaxed manner: his reaction to being called a Jedi is all you needed to hear.

“Are you going to require any kind of proof when the job is done? A finger, toe, hair, ear,...?”

“Your memory of the deed will be sufficient.” You nod slowly, ignoring how weirdly he phrased his answer.

“Do you mind any additional deaths in the name of the mission, such as guards and or witnesses?” You rattle down the standard procedure for setting the frame for missions.

“No. Do what you must.” 

“Good.” This makes it much easier, no pesky requirements in the name of a clean conscience.

“How fast can you do it?” He asks, his tone pressing.

You ponder for a moment.

“Considering I will most likely only get one shot at this, I want to tail him for a day or two, assess his security situation, both guards and housing, then I will need at least one more day to prepare, if not two. It all depends on what I can find while shadowing him. So, figure four days, if all goes well.”

He nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Reaching inside his cloak, he pulls out a little device, equipped with only one button. 

“Press this when it is done, and I will meet you outside this cantina.” 

You hold the small machine between your fingers briefly before putting it in a pocket inside your jacket.

He gets up from the table, giving you a small nod as he leaves. You remain seated for another minute, then take your leave as well. You have a mission to prepare for.


	2. The Job

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading :) Starting next chapter, we'll see a lot more of Maul, I promise!

Galenos Tallav is an absolute dirtbag. He is human scum, just like his father before him. As the leader of the Ravengarde, he makes his money off spice, mining, and  _ slaves _ . Most of the women under him have to do unspeakable things for their survival if they don’t want to face his wrath. Some of them have been born into slavery, some of them are kidnapped from their home planet and brought here, to Kessel, where their families can’t find them anymore. It is a cruel fate, which you hope to change by ending the disgusting man’s poor excuse for a life. 

In a way, you’re thankful to have been given this opportunity.

What you have been able to gather over the course of one and a half days is that he has two personal guards that follow him almost everywhere. One of them looks like he could rip a boulder apart with his two hands and crush a man’s skull between his thumb and index finger; the other one is not quite as big, but seems to have a fair knowledge of martial arts and appears to be a little quicker on his feet. He is the one you are worried about. 

As for his house, they have upped security by quite a bit since you were there four years ago on your own vendetta. After the murder of his father Lycus, Galenos must have decided his own safety was worth investing in. Now, multiple heavily armed guards adorn the front door, droids patrol the inside, and holocams scan every move that goes on both inside and outside. It was hard to even look at the house without showing your face.

Evidently, the house is not the place to attack. Instead, you found he has a cantina he appears to visit often, judging by his knowledge of the bartender and the customers, who without fail all greeted him when he entered. The cantina is close to the house, so yesterday, he walked there with only his two guards by his side. 

If he does come there often, the way home is when you would attack: They will be intoxicated and relatively unprotected. You won’t get a better chance than this.

Now all you need to do is find out which days he usually goes and what time he leaves. To do just that, you are currently hoisted up on a crate in the backyard of the cantina, looking through the back window with a pair of thermal goggles.

The room is dark and devoid of any life forms, just as you had hoped.

Pushing the goggles up on your forehead, you take out your lockpicking tool and quickly hear the quiet click that tells you the viewport has been opened successfully. That, apart from the fact they had taken you in as a child, is the big advantage of being in a guild. The  _ Concinnity  _ provides you with all the tools and weapons anyone of your profession might dream of, as long as they get returned to the armory at your headquarters. 

You pull yourself up and through the small opening, your feet connecting with the ground with an almost inaudible thud. 

The room is some sort of office, which is what you hoped it’d be. You move towards the terminal on your right quickly, and it takes you only a few seconds to pull up the security tapes of the past few weeks. Their password is 1111. You scoff quietly.

They don’t seem to have a lot of trouble with criminals around here, which makes sense since this is one of the most expensive areas to live in in this city. It’s all mansions and slave quarters. 

The transfer to your data chip begins and you nervously look over your shoulder every few seconds. 

_ Ten seconds until transfer complete… _

_ nine… _

You hear steps approaching. Your heart rate quickens as you watch the numbers count down. The steps get louder.

_ two… _

_ one… _

_ transfer complete _

You rip out the data chip and practically leap through the window, closing it behind you just in time, for you hear the door open just as you slide down the wall on the other side.

You allow a small grin to play on your lips. Almost done.

The data chip disappears in your jacket and you make your way back to the headquarters. They are closer than your apartment, and their equipment is much better than what you have. 

As the iris scanner retracts and the heavy doors to what has been your home for the larger part of your life open, somebody calls out your name. 

You spin on your heel, only to be faced with Magnus. 

“Magnus.” You reply, still not thrilled about seeing his face again. The detonators that were busted because of him had been your own, not  _ Concinnity  _ property, and they had been expensive. 

“Do you have a plan for the mission yet? Making any progress?”

You look at him sourly while you head deeper inside. Normally, he is not breathing down your neck this much when you are preparing for a job.

“Of course,” You say pointedly, before adding, “What makes this so important to you?”

He takes you by the elbow and moves you to an even less crowded area of the place. 

“First of all, the total pay is 50,000 republic credits, and we got half in advance.”

50,000 credits… That means that’s 45,000 creds going straight to you. 

“Second of all,” he lowers his voice as if he is about to tell you a secret. “The man you met, and the man he works for, they’re… very influential. More so than you can imagine. They’re…” he nervously looks around, even though you are alone. “I believe they are force users. Have you ever heard of the Sith?”

Sith? Dimly, you recall hearing the name associated with users of what was called the dark side of the force, working against the Jedi Order, but you also remember hearing that they have been extinct for hundreds of years. Or have they?

When you remember the handle of the lightsaber in the cantina, you are suddenly not so sure anymore.

“But whatever they are, it is of the utmost importance that you don’t fail them. Do you understand?” 

You gulp, trying to keep the unease out of your face, but not wanting to imagine what will happen if you do happen to fail. It’s a ridiculous thought: in the four years that you’ve been a professional hitwoman, you have never failed even once—the result of fifteen years of rigorous training. 

“I will not fail,” you answer, staring into his eyes, and turn away from him to start heading to the technical center. 

The door slides open after both your fingerprint and your iris have been scanned, revealing a dark room with terminals sitting against the wall in rows, a notable distance between each one of them. Not that it would be necessary: their displays are tinted so that only the person sitting in front of them can see.

The room is deserted with the exception of one girl, no older than fourteen. You recognize her as one of the students and give her a curt nod as you move towards the other side of the room. You know your people can be trusted, but you still prefer to have as much privacy as possible.

You retrieve the material from the data chip and quickly speed up the footage from the security holocams, scanning them for Galenos. He appears often, about every other day, drinking, groping women, swinging punches occasionally. His guards, however, don’t drink with him, as you note with disappointment. They’ll have to die with him, then. It’s their job anyway, isn’t it?

Judging by the pattern you found, that would mean he is not going to be at the cantina tonight, but tomorrow, which is… perfect? 

You shudder. Missions that go too smoothly make you… suspicious. There has to be some kind of catch. 

Maybe it’s not the mission itself. Maybe it’s the client; Magnus said he is powerful and you believe him. Simply his aura when you met him was… intimidating. Was that just how force users were, or was it just him?

You push the doubt out of your mind.  _ Do the job. _

After erasing the data, you rush out of the room and head to your apartment that’s not too far from here. If you are going to strike tomorrow, you need to get as much rest as you can now.

A blaster is secured in the holster around your right thigh. Your throwing knives are inside safely strapped to the utility belt that’s holding the detonators and stunning plates tight around your waist. Crossed over your back are your machete, a choice of weapon that’s always been frowned upon by other members of the  _ Concinnity _ , and your sword, the only weapon you had worked on and modified yourself. It is… priceless  _ and  _ very useful against opponents in possession of stun batons and the like.

Darkness is looming over the city. Not many people are out in this quarter, the rich quarter; not at this hour. You’re perched on the roof of some kind of mini hangar, far enough up to not be seen by occasional passersby, low enough to not get hurt jumping down.

Galenos should pass this point soon. His previous visits to the cantina showed he tends to leave right around midnight, which just passed. 

There.

Steps are approaching. Three sets of feet, if you are not mistaken, exactly what you have been listening for.

Adrenaline starts coursing through your body—this is the one shot you get. If you fail to kill him, you will never see him with his guard down again, his security will be too alert after one attempt on his life.

They get closer and you can hear him slurring his words. He is a drunk, just like his father used to be. You wonder how many slaves have fallen victim to that drunken violence. Was it more or less than his father? 

You grit your teeth and position yourself, ready to jump, hand at the handle of the machete. This is not going to be a duel or battle of any kind. It’s going to be an ambush.

They approach the point you are standing at, and you wait, and wait, and wait…

Until they just about pass it.

Pushing yourself off the hangar with as little noise as you can manage, you soar through the air and land right behind them.

The guard on his left spins around at the noise; the bigger one. Before he can even lift his enormous arms, the blade is buried deep inside his chest, leaving only two more people to finish off.

As expected the other guard immediately charges at you. You duck under his powerful swing and attempt an attack on his abdomen, but he is too fast and moves out of the way, causing you to miss your original target but instead get a deep cut in his thigh.

He involuntarily lowers his upper body as he clutches the injured leg, which is his fatal mistake because you use the opening to get a solid hit to his head and end his life by pushing the machete into his exposed back.

In a fair fight, he would have been a challenge.

Luckily for you, you play dirty.

Galenos is too drunk to understand that he should run away now, should have run away a long time ago. He is still stuck where he was standing when you dropped out of the sky, staring wide-eyed, the blood of his guards splattered across his chest. You extend your arm with the machete towards his neck, and it’s only then that he starts stumbling backward, the panic slowly manifesting on his features. His back hits the wall and his short escape is put to a pitiful stop.

You don’t kill him yet. Instead, you approach him slowly, until you are standing right in front of him and can look him in the eyes. They’re the same color as yours, just like you thought. 

You made the mistake of letting your emotions get the better of you when you noticed the same feature in his father years ago, and you paid the price for it. You won’t make that mistake again.

His eyes widen in surprise as he, too, sees your eyes, but before he can say anything, ask the one question that is up in the air, you slit his throat.

“Goodbye, brother.”

The gurgling sound drowns out the words he meant to say, and you’re thankful for that. 

Now it’s finally over.

It’s almost dawn when you end up pressing the button your client gave you. Disposing of the bodies had taken up more time than planned because of their sheer size, and your muscles are aching from having to carry men more than twice your weight.

The walk to the cantina doesn’t take long, and you can spot his hooded figure leaning against one of its outside walls. He doesn’t move his head towards you as you approach him, but you know he’s aware of your presence.

“Is it done?”

“Yes.”

At once he lifts his gaze to bore his eyes into yours, no  _ through  _ yours, as if he were looking right past them into your mind. The strange golden color of his eyes seems to engulf you and you lose sense of your surroundings, the only thing that matters his eyes—

You avert your stare with a ruck when you finally recognize his Jedi mind trick, attempting to get him out of your head.

Judging by his quiet sound of frustration, you succeed.

His face falls back to complete indifference, as if he hasn’t just tried to invade your mind.

“You have completed this job to satisfaction. However, my master has decided you are a liability.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, glaring. You just want to get paid and be done—but if that man is a Jedi after all, that could prove to be a problem. And if he’s a Sith?

“You are given the rare grace of a  _ choice _ .” 

You furrow your brows. 

“Either, you join us in our effort to rid the galaxy of its oppressors and create a better world. Or…” his voice trails off.

“Or what?” you ask provocatively.

“We kill you.”

You let out a humorless laugh. 

“So that is the thanks I get for completing your mission? You threaten me?”

The Sith lord—now you’re sure of it—doesn’t reply, but instead waits for your decision.

You answer, mustering up the courage and sealing your fate with a voice that doesn’t betray your inner panic, “What makes you think you can kill me?” 

Simultaneously you both change your postures; he widens his stance ever so slightly, while you step back a little and keep your arms ready at your sides.

His hand floats over the silver handle at his belt and as if pulled by an invisible string, the lightsaber flies into his glove.

For one second you stare at each other, the tension almost tangible in the air.

Then he ignites it.


	3. The Henchwoman

This isn’t off to a great start. Lightsabers are not easy to fight against if you don’t have one yourself; there are few weapons that can hold up against the pure energy that makes up the blade, and those are hard to acquire.

Fortunately for you, the Jedi have visited your home planet of Kessel before and started trouble with your guild. You have never been affected personally, but as a precaution as well as for the simple practicality of it, you modified your sword with parts of a stun baton. If activated, an electric current flows over the blade, strong enough to block an incoming hit with a lightsaber, but not strong enough to cut through a person with near as much ease as one. 

In a fight like this, it’s a purely defensive weapon.

You hold the light durasteel in your hands and activate the switch, preparing yourself for the first hit, which doesn’t leave you waiting for long.

You manage to block the first three strikes at you and try to use his growing proximity to your advantage: As he swings at you for the fourth time, a low attack directed at your legs, you jump up in the air instead of blocking it with your sword and use your now unoccupied left hand to land a punch at his throat, which doesn’t have near as big an effect on him as you hoped, but still gives you enough time to increase the distance between the two of you in an attempt to collect yourself again and somehow gain the upper hand. After all, you have an arsenal of weapons, while he seemingly came with only that lightsaber of his.

In a flash, you draw your blaster and fire at him, but he deflects the shots to the side using the red blade, then comes at you unexpectedly fast, almost supernaturally so. You barely manage to dodge his attack and his saber grazes your wrist, causing you to unintentionally open your hand and… drop your sword, the one thing keeping you alive.

All throughout your training you have learned one thing above all else: You are never unarmed. The idea then was that, as long as you have your body, you will fight, regardless of whether the opponent was stronger or more heavily armed than you.

So you keep going.

The high speed of the fight doesn’t allow for you to pick up your sword, so you move quickly towards the side to where there is more space, desperately trying to come up with a plan on how you can win against an armed Sith lord without wielding a weapon that can block his attacks.

Quickly, you realize that, here too, you are backing against a wall and the feeling of being trapped slowly but steadily sets in.

Regardless of its uselessness against a lightsaber, you get out a dagger from inside your jacket. Maybe if you manage to get his guard down, you will be able to score a hit. Most importantly, you need to get close to him again; his saber has a longer range than any weapon you carry, so as long as you’re at a distance, he’s got the advantage.

Only, you have no idea how to get close to him without literally being sliced in half.

He’s spinning the deadly weapon in his hand now while walking in your direction with the air of a predator about him, not looking threatened by you in the slightest. You  _ hope  _ he is underestimating you. 

When he slices at you again, you duck under the incoming saber and his arm, rolling over the ground and whipping around while he still has his back turned to you. This is the opening you have been waiting for: Half blinded by staring into his lightsaber for so long, you push your dagger forward and get his side. Trying to get away from him before he can come at you again, you lunge to the empty space spread out before you, but you are caught mid-air by an invisible force.

And slammed into the wall that was previously behind you.

The impact makes you feel like you can hear your bones cracking and knocks the air out of your lungs, and when you try to refill them with oxygen, you can’t. Something is closing around your throat, and despite knowing it must be the force, you instinctively claw at the invisible hands around your airways. 

Over your choking, you can hear the sound of his lightsaber retracting as if he has already won. 

Your mind is clouded by the lack of oxygen, but the wheels are turning while you are searching your brain for a way, any way at all, you can survive this.

That’s when you get an idea.

Clutching the wall you are pressed against as if to use it to support your weight, you slowly move your outstretched arm closer to your body, closer to your belt. 

Your opponent is too preoccupied with choking the life out of you to notice when you remove one of the new circular detonators from your belt. 

‘The oval ones explode on impact, the circular ones have a five-second timer’, you remember the lady in the armory telling you.

You gently toss the detonator with a subtle flick of your wrist, mentally counting down the seconds.

_ 4…  _ The detonator is moving excruciatingly slowly, but it’s tumbling the right way.

_ 3…  _ The Sith has yet to notice the approaching threat.

_ 2…  _ The explosive device gets caught on a loose rock lying in the alley, still lying a few feet away from its target

_ 1… _ You start to lose feeling in your legs, a numbing sensation washing over your body

The explosion presses you even deeper into the wall, if that’s possible, but suddenly you are free to breathe again and relief spreads in your chest, despite the almost unbearable heat enveloping you for a second, paired with debris cutting into your skin. 

Your ears are throbbing and your hearing feels muffled when the initial shock subsides, but you feel alive and genuinely hopeful once more.

Your opponent has been thrown back by the explosion, giving you a small chance of escape. You push off the wall and scramble away from him as fast as you can, but the oxygen is only now re-entering your system and your legs are still wobbly.

Still, you are getting closer to a corner. You only need to round it, then he won’t be able to use the force on you, right? As soon as you’ve reached that corner you’ll be safe, you’ll be able to run, to hide-

Your hearing kicks in again and you can hear the Sith getting back on his feet, no doubt following you.

In a desperate attempt to hold him off, you start attacking him with your throwing knives, quickly spinning, throwing, and running again. He is blocking them easily with the force. You remember something you have learned from the same woman that had gotten hold of a Jedi’s lightsaber once: it’s easy for them to block objects with the same mass.

When you turn around the next time, instead of throwing another knife, you shoot at him with your blaster, followed by a knife from your other hand. This seems to throw him off, but it’s hard to tell because you are already turned around and on the run again.

The corner is getting closer, you’re almost there-

An invisible hand is reaching out to you again, this time wrapping around your ankle, and pulls back harshly, making you fall on your face. 

The force pulls you back towards him mercilessly and the only thing you can do is turn around so you can at least face the enemy.

You come to a halt a few feet away from him, but suddenly it is like the force is completely covering your body, restraining all movement and effectively locking you in place. 

You try to fight against it and free your body, but you just end up panting from the effort, not having moved an inch. 

In your peripheral vision, you can see the man now stepping closer to you. He is no longer wearing his hood, it must have been blown back by the explosion, but you can’t see his face properly from your angle, still lying on your back.

What you can see however is that he is stretching his hand out again, ready to have the force close itself around your throat again.

Panic seeps through every inch of your being. This time, there really is no way out.

Unless?

“Wait,” you press out.

“What?” His voice sounds way too calm for having fought you seconds ago, it’s almost insulting.

“I’ve…” you struggle to get the words out against the grip of the force around you.

Almost imperceptibly, the hold on your jaw loosens.

“I’ve changed my mind. I will… work with you”

You hold your breath. There is little to no guarantee he’ll still accept your late change of heart.

“For me”, is all he says.

“What?”

“You will not work with me. You will work for me.”

“Whatever”, you utter, voice strained. You just want him to spare your life and, for maker’s sake, let go of your body. It feels like every single muscle in you is cramping up.

A second goes by and nothing happens, but then he lets go of you at once.

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth before you can help it, and you slowly crawl back on your feet, getting to face him in a more dignified position now.

The man standing in front of you is a zabrak. You haven’t encountered many of them in your life, and certainly none with a complexion as scarlet red as his. His intricate tattoos accentuate his features stunningly, his horns giving him an almost regal appearance. And, maker, he’s young, he can’t be much older than you are.

For one short moment, you just stare at each other, then, without breaking eye contact, his outstretched hand at his side summons your sword from the other end of the alley.

Spinning it so that the handle points in your direction, he extends his arm towards you.

It’s a strangely conciliatory gesture.

You hesitate one second, hand hovering above the handle, then take your weapon back.

Feeling the familiar leather wrapped around the steel calms you and the panic finally wears off as you return the sword to its place in the scabbard on your back.

“Get what you need to bring and meet me in three hours. I will wait for you east, at the edge of the forest.”

You take a deep breath while letting the realization of what you have gotten yourself into hit you.

“I will be there.”

You are about to turn around and leave, and so is he, when a thought pops into your mind.

“You never told me your name.”

Stars, your voice sounds hoarse.

A second of silence ensues.

“Darth Maul.”

Maul. The name is short and tells you little about the person behind it - it’s very fitting. Not, because it’s short, that is, but because of the cloak of secrecy that surrounds the man.

“Darth Maul… You know, if you’d just offered me to join you instead of threatening me, I probably would have said yes.”

He doesn’t respond, instead staring at you before turning around and leaving the alley. 

You close your eyes for a minute when he’s gone, allowing yourself to reflect on what just happened. Your thoughts are spinning, uncertainty nags at you, and there is so much you still need to figure out—

One thing at a time.

First, you need to get to the  _ Concinnity  _ headquarters before they get busy. Training for apprentices starts shortly after sunrise and the first sunbeams are already peeking through the smog. 

You leave the alley and pass by the sign that reads “Felicia’s—music and drinks”. 

Kriffing hellhole. A detonator went off right next to their building and nobody even bothered to check what’s going on. 

“This place is a nightmare,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your burnt wrist which only now starts to make itself noticed by sending waves of pain through your entire arm. 

The headquarters are unsurprisingly empty. You made it there before the apprentices get up, so the only ones who would be there are instructors and other contract killers. People you’ve known for most of your life, or rather  _ been in the presence of _ —many make use of fake names and as a rule, everyone is cryptic; to a fault. They are people you can never see again after this day.

The  _ Concinnity  _ doesn’t allow members to leave the guild. Once they accept you into their rows, you’re in for the rest of your life, taking over instruction as an elder, but never leaving.

You head straight for the weapon chamber. If you’re leaving anyway, you might as well take something with you, that something being the one weapon you’ve always wanted to use but never been allowed to.

The lightsaber is kept behind a separate lock, making it obvious for anyone that it’s not to be removed without explicit permission. You ponder for a moment, then proceed to punch in the first code that comes to your mind.

The lock hisses as it opens, and you quickly grab the silver handle and shove it inside one of your pockets. Your eyes scan the room as you search for anything else that might be useful for your uncertain future with Darth Maul.

Maybe you should feel bad for taking their property, but then again, in these past few years you’ve contributed more than anyone else in the entire guild. For every job you executed, the Concinnity took 10 percent of the pay—allegedly. You have reason to believe they actually took more, seeing as payment always took place through Magnus, so you never really knew what the client paid—only what Magnus told you they paid. So, in a way, you’re taking what should be yours, right?

The only other thing in the room that catches your interest is some macro binoculars. They’re not special, but since you don’t know what’s lying ahead of you, you decide they could be useful.

With your loot, you leave the chamber and exit the underground complex faster than you ever have. It’s hard to believe this will be the last time you set foot in this place. As a child, you considered this your home, though when you grew up, you realized you were only an asset to the guild, no more, no less. Still, everything you know, you’ve learned here. Everything you are, the way you talk, walk, and breathe has been shaped in this place. It’s all you’ve ever known.

But this chapter of your life is over now, you come to understand. A new future awaits you, a future at the side of a Sith lord. You’ve become part of something bigger, whether you like it or not.

Your next stop is your apartment. It’s a small, worn down place just around the corner from the entrance to the  _ Concinnity _ , barely big enough to house one person. Bedroom and kitchen are one room, the only other room being the tiny bathroom, not counting the walk-in closet taking up around half of the cramped space. It’s home to all of your gear, including clothing as well as weaponry. You aren’t home very often so you never came around to investing in a nicer place.

Now you’re glad about that.

It takes less than ten minutes to gather your belongings. They fit into one large bag that you can carry over your shoulder, only bringing the essentials: some hygiene products, a couple changes of clothes, two blasters in addition to the ones still on our person, and finally, the small trinkets you have the frowned-upon habit of collecting. They fit into a small pouch.

On top of everything you place some of the gear you’re in right now, your regular mission attire. In the end, you’re left with only your dagger and a blaster on you, everything else packed up and ready to go.

You don’t bother to take one last look at your apartment the way you did at the  _ Concinnity _ . This place means very little to you and you don’t mind leaving it behind.

Checking the time, you see you still have over an hour left. It won’t be enough to get some sleep, which you could really use, but it will be enough to eat something before you need to go.

You decide to pay a visit to the market place. It’s not a very safe place, robberies and muggings taking place almost daily, and worse things happening behind the counters and under the tables.

Still, there’s good food, probably the only redeemable quality of the planet you hesitate to call home.

When you’re done eating, you decide to finally take off, taking your speeder—technically stolen and not really ‘your speeder’, which makes it all the more easy to abandon it once you are close to the edge of the forest and decide to walk the last bit. 

Darth Maul doesn’t leave you waiting for long. He emerges from the woods without making a sound, only saying two words.

“Follow me.”

This isn’t off to a great start. Lightsabers are not easy to fight against if you don’t have one yourself; there are few weapons that can hold up against the pure energy that makes up the blade, and those are hard to acquire.

Fortunately for you, the Jedi have visited your home planet of Kessel before and started trouble with your guild. You have never been affected personally, but as a precaution as well as for the simple practicality of it, you modified your sword with parts of a stun baton. If activated, an electric current flows over the blade, strong enough to block an incoming hit with a lightsaber, but not strong enough to cut through a person with near as much ease as one. 

In a fight like this, it’s a purely defensive weapon.

You hold the light durasteel in your hands and activate the switch, preparing yourself for the first hit, which doesn’t leave you waiting for long.

You manage to block the first three strikes at you and try to use his growing proximity to your advantage: As he swings at you for the fourth time, a low attack directed at your legs, you jump up in the air instead of blocking it with your sword and use your now unoccupied left hand to land a punch at his throat, which doesn’t have near as big an effect on him as you hoped, but still gives you enough time to increase the distance between the two of you in an attempt to collect yourself again and somehow gain the upper hand. After all, you have an arsenal of weapons, while he seemingly came with only that lightsaber of his.

In a flash, you draw your blaster and fire at him, but he deflects the shots to the side using the red blade, then comes at you unexpectedly fast, almost supernaturally so. You barely manage to dodge his attack and his saber grazes your wrist, causing you to unintentionally open your hand and… drop your sword, the one thing keeping you alive.

All throughout your training you have learned one thing above all else: You are never unarmed. The idea then was that, as long as you have your body, you will fight, regardless of whether the opponent was stronger or more heavily armed than you.

So you keep going.

The high speed of the fight doesn’t allow for you to pick up your sword, so you move quickly towards the side to where there is more space, desperately trying to come up with a plan on how you can win against an armed Sith lord without wielding a weapon that can block his attacks.

Quickly, you realize that, here too, you are backing against a wall and the feeling of being trapped slowly but steadily sets in.

Regardless of its uselessness against a lightsaber, you get out a dagger from inside your jacket. Maybe if you manage to get his guard down, you will be able to score a hit. Most importantly, you need to get close to him again; his saber has a longer range than any weapon you carry, so as long as you’re at a distance, he’s got the advantage.

Only, you have no idea how to get close to him without literally being sliced in half.

He’s spinning the deadly weapon in his hand now while walking in your direction with the air of a predator about him, not looking threatened by you in the slightest. You  _ hope  _ he is underestimating you. 

When he slices at you again, you duck under the incoming saber and his arm, rolling over the ground and whipping around while he still has his back turned to you. This is the opening you have been waiting for: Half blinded by staring into his lightsaber for so long, you push your dagger forward and get his side. Trying to get away from him before he can come at you again, you lunge to the empty space spread out before you, but you are caught mid-air by an invisible force.

And slammed into the wall that was previously behind you.

The impact makes you feel like you can hear your bones cracking and knocks the air out of your lungs, and when you try to refill them with oxygen, you can’t. Something is closing around your throat, and despite knowing it must be the force, you instinctively claw at the invisible hands around your airways. 

Over your choking, you can hear the sound of his lightsaber retracting as if he has already won. 

Your mind is clouded by the lack of oxygen, but the wheels are turning while you are searching your brain for a way, any way at all, you can survive this.

That’s when you get an idea.

Clutching the wall you are pressed against as if to use it to support your weight, you slowly move your outstretched arm closer to your body, closer to your belt. 

Your opponent is too preoccupied with choking the life out of you to notice when you remove one of the new circular detonators from your belt. 

‘The oval ones explode on impact, the circular ones have a five-second timer’, you remember the lady in the armory telling you.

You gently toss the detonator with a subtle flick of your wrist, mentally counting down the seconds.

_ 4…  _ The detonator is moving excruciatingly slowly, but it’s tumbling the right way.

_ 3…  _ The Sith has yet to notice the approaching threat.

_ 2…  _ The explosive device gets caught on a loose rock lying in the alley, still lying a few feet away from its target

_ 1… _ You start to lose feeling in your legs, a numbing sensation washing over your body

The explosion presses you even deeper into the wall, if that’s possible, but suddenly you are free to breathe again and relief spreads in your chest, despite the almost unbearable heat enveloping you for a second, paired with debris cutting into your skin. 

Your ears are throbbing and your hearing feels muffled when the initial shock subsides, but you feel alive and genuinely hopeful once more.

Your opponent has been thrown back by the explosion, giving you a small chance of escape. You push off the wall and scramble away from him as fast as you can, but the oxygen is only now re-entering your system and your legs are still wobbly.

Still, you are getting closer to a corner. You only need to round it, then he won’t be able to use the force on you, right? As soon as you’ve reached that corner you’ll be safe, you’ll be able to run, to hide-

Your hearing kicks in again and you can hear the Sith getting back on his feet, no doubt following you.

In a desperate attempt to hold him off, you start attacking him with your throwing knives, quickly spinning, throwing, and running again. He is blocking them easily with the force. You remember something you have learned from the same woman that had gotten hold of a Jedi’s lightsaber once: it’s easy for them to block objects with the same mass.

When you turn around the next time, instead of throwing another knife, you shoot at him with your blaster, followed by a knife from your other hand. This seems to throw him off, but it’s hard to tell because you are already turned around and on the run again.

The corner is getting closer, you’re almost there-

An invisible hand is reaching out to you again, this time wrapping around your ankle, and pulls back harshly, making you fall on your face. 

The force pulls you back towards him mercilessly and the only thing you can do is turn around so you can at least face the enemy.

You come to a halt a few feet away from him, but suddenly it is like the force is completely covering your body, restraining all movement and effectively locking you in place. 

You try to fight against it and free your body, but you just end up panting from the effort, not having moved an inch. 

In your peripheral vision, you can see the man now stepping closer to you. He is no longer wearing his hood, it must have been blown back by the explosion, but you can’t see his face properly from your angle, still lying on your back.

What you can see however is that he is stretching his hand out again, ready to have the force close itself around your throat again.

Panic seeps through every inch of your being. This time, there really is no way out.

Unless?

“Wait,” you press out.

“What?” His voice sounds way too calm for having fought you seconds ago, it’s almost insulting.

“I’ve…” you struggle to get the words out against the grip of the force around you.

Almost imperceptibly, the hold on your jaw loosens.

“I’ve changed my mind. I will… work with you”

You hold your breath. There is little to no guarantee he’ll still accept your late change of heart.

“For me”, is all he says.

“What?”

“You will not work with me. You will work for me.”

“Whatever”, you utter, voice strained. You just want him to spare your life and, for maker’s sake, let go of your body. It feels like every single muscle in you is cramping up.

A second goes by and nothing happens, but then he lets go of you at once.

A sigh of relief escapes your mouth before you can help it, and you slowly crawl back on your feet, getting to face him in a more dignified position now.

The man standing in front of you is a zabrak. You haven’t encountered many of them in your life, and certainly none with a complexion as scarlet red as his. His intricate tattoos accentuate his features stunningly, his horns giving him an almost regal appearance. And, maker, he’s young, he can’t be much older than you are.

For one short moment, you just stare at each other, then, without breaking eye contact, his outstretched hand at his side summons your sword from the other end of the alley.

Spinning it so that the handle points in your direction, he extends his arm towards you.

It’s a strangely conciliatory gesture.

You hesitate one second, hand hovering above the handle, then take your weapon back.

Feeling the familiar leather wrapped around the steel calms you and the panic finally wears off as you return the sword to its place in the scabbard on your back.

“Get what you need to bring and meet me in three hours. I will wait for you east, at the edge of the forest.”

You take a deep breath while letting the realization of what you have gotten yourself into hit you.

“I will be there.”

You are about to turn around and leave, and so is he, when a thought pops into your mind.

“You never told me your name.”

Stars, your voice sounds hoarse.

A second of silence ensues.

“Darth Maul.”

Maul. The name is short and tells you little about the person behind it - it’s very fitting. Not, because it’s short, that is, but because of the cloak of secrecy that surrounds the man.

“Darth Maul… You know, if you’d just offered me to join you instead of threatening me, I probably would have said yes.”

He doesn’t respond, instead staring at you before turning around and leaving the alley. 

You close your eyes for a minute when he’s gone, allowing yourself to reflect on what just happened. Your thoughts are spinning, uncertainty nags at you, and there is so much you still need to figure out—

One thing at a time.

First, you need to get to the  _ Concinnity  _ headquarters before they get busy. Training for apprentices starts shortly after sunrise and the first sunbeams are already peeking through the smog. 

You leave the alley and pass by the sign that reads “Felicia’s—music and drinks”. 

Kriffing hellhole. A detonator went off right next to their building and nobody even bothered to check what’s going on. 

“This place is a nightmare,” you mumble to yourself, rubbing your burnt wrist which only now starts to make itself noticed by sending waves of pain through your entire arm. 

The headquarters are unsurprisingly empty. You made it there before the apprentices get up, so the only ones who would be there are instructors and other contract killers. People you’ve known for most of your life, or rather  _ been in the presence of _ —many make use of fake names and as a rule, everyone is cryptic; to a fault. They are people you can never see again after this day.

The  _ Concinnity  _ doesn’t allow members to leave the guild. Once they accept you into their rows, you’re in for the rest of your life, taking over instruction as an elder, but never leaving.

You head straight for the weapon chamber. If you’re leaving anyway, you might as well take something with you, that something being the one weapon you’ve always wanted to use but never been allowed to.

The lightsaber is kept behind a separate lock, making it obvious for anyone that it’s not to be removed without explicit permission. You ponder for a moment, then proceed to punch in the first code that comes to your mind.

The lock hisses as it opens, and you quickly grab the silver handle and shove it inside one of your pockets. Your eyes scan the room as you search for anything else that might be useful for your uncertain future with Darth Maul.

Maybe you should feel bad for taking their property, but then again, in these past few years you’ve contributed more than anyone else in the entire guild. For every job you executed, the Concinnity took 10 percent of the pay—allegedly. You have reason to believe they actually took more, seeing as payment always took place through Magnus, so you never really knew what the client paid—only what Magnus told you they paid. So, in a way, you’re taking what should be yours, right?

The only other thing in the room that catches your interest is some macro binoculars. They’re not special, but since you don’t know what’s lying ahead of you, you decide they could be useful.

With your loot, you leave the chamber and exit the underground complex faster than you ever have. It’s hard to believe this will be the last time you set foot in this place. As a child, you considered this your home, though when you grew up, you realized you were only an asset to the guild, no more, no less. Still, everything you know, you’ve learned here. Everything you are, the way you talk, walk, and breathe has been shaped in this place. It’s all you’ve ever known.

But this chapter of your life is over now, you come to understand. A new future awaits you, a future at the side of a Sith lord. You’ve become part of something bigger, whether you like it or not.

Your next stop is your apartment. It’s a small, worn down place just around the corner from the entrance to the  _ Concinnity _ , barely big enough to house one person. Bedroom and kitchen are one room, the only other room being the tiny bathroom, not counting the walk-in closet taking up around half of the cramped space. It’s home to all of your gear, including clothing as well as weaponry. You aren’t home very often so you never came around to investing in a nicer place.

Now you’re glad about that.

It takes less than ten minutes to gather your belongings. They fit into one large bag that you can carry over your shoulder, only bringing the essentials: some hygiene products, a couple changes of clothes, two blasters in addition to the ones still on our person, and finally, the small trinkets you have the frowned-upon habit of collecting. They fit into a small pouch.

On top of everything you place some of the gear you’re in right now, your regular mission attire. In the end, you’re left with only your dagger and a blaster on you, everything else packed up and ready to go.

You don’t bother to take one last look at your apartment the way you did at the  _ Concinnity _ . This place means very little to you and you don’t mind leaving it behind.

Checking the time, you see you still have over an hour left. It won’t be enough to get some sleep, which you could really use, but it will be enough to eat something before you need to go.

You decide to pay a visit to the marketplace. It’s not a very safe place, robberies and muggings taking place almost daily, and worse things happening behind the counters and under the tables.

Still, there’s good food, probably the only redeemable quality of the planet you hesitate to call home.

When you’re done eating, you decide to finally take off, taking your speeder—technically stolen and not really ‘your speeder’, which makes it all the more easy to abandon it once you are close to the edge of the forest and decide to walk the last bit. 

Darth Maul doesn’t leave you waiting for long. He emerges from the woods without making a sound, only saying two words.

“Follow me.”


	4. The Flight

He turns and walks the same way he came, not bothering to check if you’re following him. Which, of course, you are. What’s the alternative?

His spaceship is well hidden in a small clearing in the forest. It looks like a star courier, but you aren’t sure: They are diplomats’ ships, and not many diplomats make it all the way out to Kessel; or bother to, that is.

The ship seems to be in pristine condition, and the ramp extends to the ground smoothly after the Sith types something on the keypad. All the ships you’ve flown so far have been old, heavily modified and recycled ships that did the job, but not much more. This is on a whole new level and you’re somewhat excited, inwardly, to see the interior.

Maul enters first and you follow suit. The interior is illuminated by red lights, which seems to be the color scheme the Sith follows. 

There is a sleep compartment on your right and you can see one more straight ahead, next to what appears to be a lift at the side of the round ready-room. 

Together, you take the lift to the next floor and exit it into a rather large room with six seats lined up against the dark grey oval back wall, and the pilot’s seat in the cockpit in the front.

Darth Maul takes his place in the cockpit and you decide on one of the passenger’s seats in the back.

It’s the first time you speak up.

“Where are we going?”

The Sith doesn’t turn around to face you.

“Nar Shaddaa.”

“The smuggler’s moon? What kind of business do you have there?”

“Somebody is late on a payment to us. We will pay them a visit.”

“I see.”

There is silence between you as he starts the engine which comes to life with a smooth rumble.

You can feel the ship take off and accelerate to a faster speed than any ship you’ve ever flown.

“How long until we reach the moon?”

“Navigation says one day.”

His eyes are still trained on the large viewport.

“ _Leaving atmosphere now.”_ The computer announces.

This seems as good a time as any to wash off the dirt and blood from both your last mission and the fight with the man in the seat before you.

You clear your throat. “You got a refresher?”

“Downstairs, straight ahead,” he replies, the gentle bass of his voice filling the room. His voice is too nice to be used so scarcely, you think to yourself.

The refresher is small but big enough to fit a shower, which is all you want at the moment.

You pile up the dirty clothes in a heap on the floor, next to a stack of fresh ones. 

The warm water is pleasant on your worn-out body, but you have to physically restrain yourself from wincing when the soap gets into all the cuts and minor injuries you’ve sustained in the fight, though you’re probably the one to blame for those. The detonator did more damage than the rest of the fight, with the bruises on your neck and your lightly burned wrist being the only exceptions. However, if this is what you look like after the explosion, Maul must be hurt even worse—he was a lot closer than you to the detonator when it went off.

You can’t say you feel bad about it. It was self-defense, after all.

Drying yourself off with a small towel, you freeze when you reach your feet. 

“Blast!” you whisper, looking at the thin layer of synthetic skin that’s now clung to your finger. Staring at your ankle, you see the black marking visible again.

Dread fills you as you realize that you didn’t think to bring any more synthskin. 

Sighing heavily, you stand up straight again and look in the mirror. The tattoo on your ankle is far from being the only one you have. Adorning your midriff, black lines, shaped into a pattern of curves, stand out against your skin. 

_“Please don’t kick me out!”, you sobbed, begging the man standing in front of you._

_“You’ve violated our code, have you not? Why should I make an exception for you?”_

_“Please, understand! He… She was right there and he… was_ fine. _Why should she have to suffer and not him? How could I live with myself knowing he had a fast death, when he choked her to death?”_ _Your fingernails dug into your palms so hard, blood was drawn._

_"How many times, hm? How many times did you stab him, breaking the rules we gave you?”_

_“Twenty-three”, you pressed out between clenched teeth. “Magnus…” you said hoarsely, “his eyes looked like mine.”_

_His gaze softens slightly._

_“How do I know it won’t happen again? How will you_ learn _?”_

_“Please…”_

_“We will need to find a way to remind you of how you failed us today. Something that will stick with you for eternity.”_

Eternity, indeed. Ever since you were fifteen, every day when you look at your reflection in the mirror, the black inkings on your skin remind you of the day you lost your mother and killed your father, or at least presumably your father. Each painstakingly inked line is made to resemble a wound inflicted by you. Twenty-three lines, arranged into a pattern.

There must be something about you that makes people want to give you tattoos against your will.

But you stand by the tattoo on your midriff. It’s the one on your ankle that you want to—no, need to—cover up.

Damp hair pulled into a loose braid, you re-emerge from the lift on the upper floor.

You don’t expect to see Maul sitting on the floor cross-legged, eyes closed, meditating.

Unsure of what to do, you awkwardly stay where you are.

“Do you…” It feels wrong to break the silence. “Do you have any synthskin?”

His eyes open slowly, intense gaze focused on you, before moving to your wrist, which has been burned by his lightsaber.

“Your injury doesn’t look severe enough for synthskin.” 

His tone isn’t condescending, or dismissive. It’s questioning.

“It’s not for the injury.”

His eyes bore into yours once again, unwilling to answer you without a more elaborate answer.

You sigh and take your left boot off, pushing the sock down far enough to expose the sign that’s eternalized in your skin.

He musters it for a moment, not moving from his place on the floor.

“A slave tattoo.” He remarks in a matter-of-factly tone.

“Yes.”

He holds your gaze until you give in. “I was born into slavery, before being taken in by the _Concinnity_.” You make your unwillingness to talk about the sore topic very clear and readjust your boot.

To your surprise, the zabrak gets up from his previous position and walks past you, into the lift.

“Wait here.” Is all he says, then the doors to the lift slide closed.

You just stand there for a moment, staring at the closed doors, before plopping down on the closest seat.

Through the viewport in the front, you can see the dark nothingness of space, only disturbed by the gleaming lights of stars far out of reach for you. You used to despise flying when you did jobs on other planets. It made you feel alone in the universe. 

Flying with a companion, however—as quiet as he may be—is somewhat comforting.

The Sith returns, a packet of synthskin in his hand.

“We will need to restock soon.”

You are briefly stunned by the act of kindness, before taking the item from his outstretched hand. 

He didn’t need to do that. He could’ve told you to get over it, but he even went so far as planning ahead for you.

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say.

He just nods and sits back down on the floor, going straight back to meditating.

You take him having his eyes closed as a chance to openly stare at him; The red light illuminating his skin makes him blend into his surroundings easily, the black markings on his face, around his eyes, at first glance making him look like he is scowling, but the longer you look, the more you can see that his face is actually relaxed.

You notice he is wearing different, lighter robes than he was when you were fighting, though it was hard to see what he was wearing in the dark of the alley, and you were pretty preoccupied with other things. The robes on him now, though still quite unrevealing, have a looser neckline, exposing more of the art that’s tattooed on him.

Do all Zabraks get their entire bodies tattooed? 

You can’t help but wonder what their meaning is. He doesn’t seem like the type to get a tattoo solely for the aesthetic, though you would be lying if you said they don’t somehow enhance his dark appeal.

Glancing at the computer screen in the cockpit, you see that you still have over twenty-three hours to go.

You suppress a yawn and stand up from your seat, getting into the lift.

Downstairs, you examine the two sleeping compartments. One of them seems to be Maul’s, though the only way you can tell is through the covers that are draped over the bed neatly, instead of being folded up like the ones on the apparently unused bed. Something inside you snickers at the thought of the all-mighty Sith lord making his bed in the morning, but you do wonder if he even sleeps that much, or if his meditation thing is how he gets most of his rest.

You wouldn’t judge, you aren’t exactly a picture book example of healthy sleeping habits either.

Now, however, you unfold the covers on the sleeping compartment you claim as yours, seeing as you’re the only other person on the ship. First, you sit down on the surprisingly comfortable bed and start covering up your tattoo. The synthskin doesn’t take long to apply to your ankle, you have gotten pretty good at it over the past few years.

Trying to get comfortable under the thin covering next, you twist and turn, but can’t seem to shake off the feeling that something is wrong.

It doesn’t take you long to realize what’s bothering you—you sit up straight in the bed and reach out for your bag that you discarded earlier when boarding the ship. You pull out a small knife and place it under the pillow. It’s a habit most inhabitants of your city pick up over time, and the continuously rising crime rate on Kessel is indicating it won’t stop anytime soon. Obviously, the measure is obsolete on a ship with only two passengers, but old habits die hard.

Settling back down, you finally close your eyes and let the constant hum of the ship lull you to sleep.

You awaken to your stomach rumbling. On the wall to your left, a small projection lets you know you’ve slept for five hours—a more than decent amount, you think.

But now, you’re hungry. You feel somewhat embarrassed to ask him for something again, but your body is not really giving you a choice in the matter, so you get up and into the lift, fixing your hair on the way.

Maul is no longer meditating, but instead seated in the pilot’s seat again, typing something on a keypad you can’t see.

“Do you have food rations somewhere?” Your quiet voice sounds louder than you expected.

His hand hovers over the keypad, before moving to the side. A box moves out of a shelf to his right and floats over to one of the seats in the back, gently settling down. 

You sit down next to it and open the lid, examining its contents. It’s all fairly basic stuff—some ration bars, and powders that, mixed with hot water, turn into a kind of bread. You don’t know why you’re surprised, not knowing what your subconscious expected. Siths need to somehow sustain themselves too.

You grab a ration bar and contemplate offering him one too. No, this is his own ship, if he wants one he’ll take one—you can’t just offer him something that’s his in the first place, can you? You’ve learned a lot as a member of the _Concinnity_ , but they weren’t really big on social skills, something you never regretted until now. 

Luckily, it doesn’t look like your travel companion is much of an extrovert either.

Chewing on the somewhat tasteless bar brings back memories from when you had just moved into your first and only own apartment and lived off these things for nearly two years, not knowing how to cook and not making enough money on jobs to be able to afford to buy every meal. You are the living proof ration bars contain everything you need to survive.

There’s still so much time left, and you are not used to having off-time… at all. For a minute, you wonder if the zabrak will mind if you make yourself a bit more at home and go through some training exercises, and you decide that since he forced you to go with him, he can’t complain if you keep up part of what makes you this good in the first place, so you decide to use the time on your hands now to practice your flexibility and balance. Down in the ready room, you get out the small ball you have for that purpose and look around you. Unsatisfied, you shake your head. This won’t do, the room is too small, and you need space to stretch out your body.

You go back upstairs, trying to fight the impression that your presence disturbs Maul, who doesn’t even acknowledge you entering the room again, his back turned to you.

You start out with your basic stretches but quickly move along to the more advanced moves, balancing the ball on your foot while in a handstand, slowly lifting your one hand off the ground while keeping your balance.

Your instructor when you were young taught you that combat skills _won_ fights, but that stealthiness prevented them, which has been proven true on multiple occasions in your life. You may not be a member of the guild anymore, but that doesn’t mean you believe what they taught you is not still true.

Carefully, eyes closed in deep focus, you kick the ball up in the air with your foot, catching it in your hand, still maintaining your one-handed handstand.

After a few more moves, you decide you’ve had enough and get back on your feet. 

“How long have you been trained?” His question startles you and you turn around to see those intense eyes focused on you.

“Since I was four.” You meet his gaze, waiting for a follow-up question, while you put on the boots that you had taken off for your practice.

He blinks at you.

“The man. You called him your brother.”

You freeze in your movements, almost having forgotten that he had looked into your mind.

Choosing not to answer, you train your eyes on the task of tying up your boots again, but you can feel his eyes boring into you still. You sigh almost inaudibly.

“He was the legitimate son, I was born to a slave his father bedded. A _bastard_.”

You pause for a second.

“I didn’t know him until yesterday. I mean I knew of his existence, but I have never met him.”

“And the father?”

You glare at him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. It doesn’t make any difference.”

“But it does.” He says calmly, insisting. “How can I trust your loyalty to our cause when you hide things from me?”

You stare at each other for an eternal moment again, until you finally avert your gaze.

“Four years ago. He killed my mother, I killed him. I was fifteen.”

The memory resurfaces despite your efforts to suppress it. The limp, beaten-up body of your mother. The bruises on her neck. The stench from Lycus, lying next to her, passed out from alcohol and spice, but alive.

The look on his face when he looked you in the eyes, the realization. And the feeling of your blade buried in his chest.

The day you were officially an orphan, and the same day you had officially become a fully instructed member of the _Concinnity_ , after completing your first kill, no matter how you had broken their code.

Again you get the feeling he is looking into your mind and seeing this scarring, but most importantly _personal_ memory.

‘ _Get out of my head.’_ you think, trying to put as much weight into the thought as you can.

You could swear he flinches, but it might just be a product of your imagination.

He blinks and turns back to the controls in front of him, flicking a few switches.

“Watch over this,” he says, getting up from his chair and swiftly moving past you into the lift. The doors close before you can answer.

Nervously, you move to the pilot’s seat and sit down in it uncomfortably. You know how to fly, yes, but you are _not_ a great pilot, so you can just hope nothing happens that would require you to leave autopilot. 

The sound of water running downstairs confirms your guess that Maul is taking a shower. Without wanting to, your mind wanders, wondering how the tattoos on his torso look, spanning across his no doubt toned body…

You mentally slap yourself for the thought, telling yourself you are above daydreaming about a man who is coercing you into working for him.

Sitting up straighter, you shake all thoughts, however appealing they may be, off and force yourself to just focus on the space before you.

If it weren’t for the sound of water running, the well-known loneliness would settle in again. But for now, you’re fine, just watching the stars.

The next few hours are uneventful. You decide to get your equipment ready about four hours before your predicted arrival on Nar Shaddaa, which is when you realize the Sith hasn’t let you in on his plan yet.

“There is no plan. We go meet them and ask them why they’re late on their payment. If a fight ensues, so be it.”

You furrow your eyebrows, which he, turned away from you, of course can’t see.

“On Nar Shaddaa? Three out of four times you come there to meet someone, _especially_ the Hutts, it’s a trap. You can’t trust them.”

He turns to face you.

“You’ve been there?”

You huff. “Aside from Kessel, it’s where we get most of our jobs from. And most of them end in some kind of dispute about the payment.”

He narrows his eyes in thought.

“So what do you suggest?”

You’re taken aback by him asking for your opinion, your _advice_.

“They don’t know I’m coming, do they?” He shakes his head slightly. “Then I say, you go in there, I wait outside and watch. If all is well, you collect their money and leave. If it’s a trap, I can jump in and help.”

He thinks about it for a moment, then nods in approval. “Fine.”

Satisfied, you lean back in your chair. 

“What are you going to do if they refuse to pay?”

He turns back to his original position, facing the viewport in front of you.

“We kill them.”

That’s very much your way of doing things.

You’ve got the feeling you’ll get along well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, our time with Maul begins :) Hope you enjoyed this chapter <3


	5. The Mission

The descent to Nar Shaddaa is quite difficult, as per usual. The smuggler’s moon is a busy place and it’s a challenge to find a place to land the ship once one has made it through the dense air traffic.

Maul manages, but once when someone cut straight in front of him you could hear him mumble angry words in a language you didn’t understand.

The two of you exit the ship and Maul leads the way through sketchy streets, back alleys and huge crowds. The moon is just as big a dump as you remember it being, from unpleasant smells coming from all directions over people bumping into you with no respect for personal space whatsoever, to you being offered spice at every corner.

Finally, the zabrak comes to a halt in the middle of a less busy street, looking straight ahead.

“The grey building over there is where we meet them. Don’t let the guards see you.”

You follow his eyes and indeed: Two Gamorrean guards are posted on each side of the large wooden door, which seems out of place on the grey facade of the building.

Your eyes scan the surroundings of the place to find a way of getting in without having to walk through the front door in case of an emergency, unable to shake off the feeling that your help will be needed.

A narrow passage between the grey building and the one next to it catches your attention, and you decide to examine it more closely as soon as Maul is heading inside.

You look at him and nod, showing him you’re ready for the mission to begin.

The Sith lord walks up to the guards, hood still covering his face, and they exchange a few words, not loud enough for you to hear. You use their shifted attention to slip into the almost claustrophobically small gap between the buildings. It’s so narrow, you have to move your shoulders a little sideways to fit.

The only window you can find is about twenty feet in the air, but scaling this building is much easier than normally due to its proximity to the next one. One foot on each wall, you basically walk up the house, until the viewport is within reach. 

You pull out your thermal goggles with one hand while steadying yourself on the wall with the other one and trying to get a look inside with your bare eyes.

You’re surprised to see the viewport you’re looking through does not belong to the second floor: There is only one level, and a high ceiling, reminding you of some kind of temple. Maybe that’s what it was before the Hutt crime lords took over Nar Shaddaa: a sad, grey temple.

Putting on the thermal goggles, you are finally able to make out the people inside, and your breath hitches in your throat. 

“I hate being right all the time,” you whisper to yourself, assessing the situation.

Suspended from the ceiling with some kind of wire rope around his hands is your crimson-skinned travel companion. The thermal vision doesn’t allow for you to see his face, but you’re sure he must be fuming with anger right now.

The trap they set up for him must have been very well thought out, otherwise they wouldn’t have been able to get the force user into this kind of situation. You wonder if they used motion sensors when he walked in, or if they managed to shock him in order to tie him up so quickly.

Obviously, they are in the wrong for doing this, but you have to give credit where credit is due—this is an excellent trap.

Except of course, now you’re going to ruin it all for them.

The thermal vision shows you that at this moment, one creature—it’s hard to tell what species—is circling the Sith slowly, seemingly enjoying having the upper hand for once. Maybe if you strike him down while jumping in, that will confuse everyone else long enough for you to either cut some of them down or free Maul.

Or should you just try to shoot at them from your elevated position?

Maybe that’s a good idea. The viewport is excellent for taking cover, and until now, nobody has noticed you. Now all you have to do is remove the transparisteel from the frame without grabbing their attention.

You get to work by pulling out a small vial filled with an acidic mixture, which you’d learned dissolves the glue that’s commonly used in construction. You carefully apply it to the frame and wait.

Foam appears, which you think is a good sign. Cautiously, you try to slip your fingers through the space between frame and transparisteel, and— _yes._

Gently tugging on the material, you pull out the thin screen that’s been separating you from the inside. Now, their voices finally reach you.

“... no longer work under you. We’ve received more profitable offers…”

You tune out the conversation and very, very carefully attempt to place the transparisteel between the two walls so that it jams and doesn’t fall to the ground, causing much-undesired noise.

You succeed and shift your attention back to the interior, where a man—you’re surprised to see it’s not a Hutt—is standing before the tied-up Sith, his hands clasped behind his back in an arrogant manner. He must be the boss.

Maul is facing away from you, so you can’t see his face, but you can only imagine how much his wrist must hurt already, holding his entire body weight just on a thin wire.

It’s obvious that you have to act quickly.

You take out a throwing knife—a blaster would draw too much attention to your position. Not giving yourself too much time to aim or reconsider your decision, you just throw it.

There is no time to wait and watch for the knife to meet its target. As soon as the handle leaves your hand, you leap into the room, immediately slicing through two of the guards in a swift motion, your feet barely even having met the ground. The people who have been watching until now are too stunned by the fast turn of events to move for a moment and you use that to your advantage, not losing any time and immediately charging at the next person. They outnumber you, by a lot, so it’s critical that you free Maul _now_.

To the feet of the boss, from whose throat protrudes the familiar handle of your knife, lies Maul’s lightsaber, discarded in the chaos you caused. You sprint towards it, dodging attackers left and right, sliding through the open legs of a particularly big guard. 

The silver handle is much larger than any lightsaber you’ve ever seen, but the button to ignite it seems to be the same.

Red light illuminates the dim room as you spin around and decapitate the man charging after you, then you decide to take the risk and throw the deadly weapon, doing your best to aim for the wire rope that’s still holding Maul up by his wrists.

Screams ensue as the lethal blade approaches the ground again, after successfully having cut the Sith loose. Its descent slows and mid-air it stops, changing its direction and flying straight into Maul’s hand.

This is where the odds change for the better.

Starting from here, it’s pure carnage. The infuriated Sith Lord slaughters every living being crossing his path, and you do the same, with a little more effort than him.

At some point, three massive guards have you circled, closing in on you slowly. You attack the one closest to you—he blocks, but your second charge comes too fast for him to react, and he drops to the ground. The next guard tries to surprise you by clasping your body from behind, using his larger form to his advantage by constricting your arm movement by pressing you to his filthy body, attempting to choke you from behind. You manage to headbutt him backward, using his brief drowsiness to free yourself from his grip, as the third guard charges at you. You react fast and take him out, but now the guard behind you has come back to his senses and raises his weapon—

The hum of a lightsaber fills your ears as his body is cut in half in one swift motion.

Crunching up your nose at the smell of burned flesh, you look at the zabrak who appears behind the now dead man.

“I had it under control.”

“Certainly.”

You look around to see that you are done. There must be over thirty corpses piled up on the floor.

“Well, this should convey the message.”

Stepping over the dead bodies, you both make your way to the door.

You can’t say you’re totally unfazed by this massacre. As a hitwoman, you are used to taking your victims by surprise and disappearing before a fight can follow, rarely being forced to take out this many people at once. But, that’s life. Somebody has to do the dirty work.

Besides, they started it by double-crossing the Sith.

“So,” you start as you exit the building, “it was a trap.”

“Your prediction was correct, if that’s what you want to hear.”

Grimly, the zabrak puts on his hood again. You don’t bother hiding your identity anymore. If someone sees you on this moon, it doesn’t matter. You doubt you’ll stay here any longer than you have to.

This time, fewer people bump into you, which you can credit to the blood splattered all over you. Maul looks less gory: Lightsaber wounds bleed less, the heat of the laser blade is effective in cauterizing them, though you haven’t really gotten around to examining one of the wounds more closely.

It feels like an eternity to reach the ship, but when you do, Maul wastes no time in starting the engine and taking off. You get the feeling he dislikes the place almost as much as you do. 

You head straight to the refresher to change out of your clothes and wash at least some of the blood off, and you can feel the spaceship speeding up, informing you that you have left the smuggler’s moon’s dense traffic.

Feeling somewhat refreshed, you go back upstairs.

Just as you enter, a hologram before Maul disappears. All you could see before it disconnected was a hooded figure, its back turned to you.

“Where are we going next?” you ask, wondering if that’s how your life is going to be. Traveling from planet to planet, slaughtering strangers.

“Lannik.”

You frown. 

“Lannik? Do you have business there?” The forest planet doesn’t seem like a likely location for a Sith to conduct his business.

He flicks three switches before turning around in his chair to face you.

“No. Our next goal is to get Nute Gunray elected to Viceroy of the Trade Federation. But we are still waiting for intel on who is going to run against him, so as long as we don’t have that, we are laying low on Lannik.”

You nod slowly. So they are involved in the Trade Federation too. This is getting more and more interesting.

“How long until we land?”

“Nine hours.”

“ _Preparing to jump into hyperspace,”_ the automated computer voice announces, causing you to sit and lean back in your seat, putting on the seatbelt. Not that that’s usually necessary, but the transition to hyperspace makes you feel anxious and the seatbelt gives you a sense of security. The last time you jumped to hyperspace, you almost fainted—and you were the pilot, then.

It’s been a while.

You feel your body being pressed into the seat, the stars in front of you looking elongated—

You force your eyes shut, scrunching up your face at the feeling of being accelerated to a speed faster than light.

After two, three excruciating seconds, it’s over. You sigh shakily and open your eyes again, wiping your sweaty hands on your pants.

You grab another ration bar from the box that’s still sitting next to you. The thought of eating right now makes you even more nauseous, but you figure that maybe after a bit of rest you’ll be hungry.

You get up from your seat and pipe up. “I’ll be downstairs.” Your voice sounds weaker than anticipated, and the Sith lord turns around, face momentarily pulled into something that, if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost call worry. Of course, his usual, neutral expression washes over his face before you get to interpret it any further, taking in your face that, if the way you’re feeling is any indication of how you look, must be drained of blood.

Shakily, you enter the lift, your stomach twisting as it descends. 

You grab some water, then turn to bury your face in the pillow on your bed, just hoping your stomach will settle down soon.

You must have fallen asleep. When your eyes open once again, you are crouched up on the bed in an awkward angle, one arm dangling over the edge and grazing the floor. You groggily sit up on the bed and push your open hair back. The time projection tells you you’ve been asleep for almost two hours. At least now your stomach feels a lot better and you feel much more energized than before.

Looking around the room, which is tinted in a constant red tone, you look for something useful to do for the remaining seven hours. 

_The lightsaber._

You almost forgot about that; It’s still buried deep in your bag. For a second, you wonder if you should get it out, ignite it, but decide against it when you consider the small space you’re in.

Once you get outside, though, you’ll definitely try it out. And if you’re lucky, the Sith lord you’re with might even show you a thing or two—you wielding a stronger weapon would be beneficial for him too, wouldn’t it?

You’ll bring it up with him later. For now, you decide to go back upstairs and maybe find out something about who exactly you’re now working for.

“My master’s identity must remain hidden at the moment,” is his curt response.

“But…” you tilt your head curiously ”You are Sith lords, right? You use the force, fight with lightsabers…”

His movements freeze for a second before he looks at you with furrowed eyebrows. Eye ridges. You’re not sure what exactly to call it, seeing as zabraks don’t have any facial hair, but if he were human, he would be furrowing his eyebrows.

“What do you know of the Sith?”

“Not much more than what I just told you. I know you fight the Jedi, too.”

You must have gained his interest with that statement because his eyes seem to start glowing from the inside as he stares into yours again.

“The Jedi,” he begins in a questioning tone, “you don’t like them. When you speak of them, I can sense hatred in you.” He does not go on but instead pushes you to explain with just the intensity of his gaze.

“It’s a personal story.” You try to avoid delving into your past any more than you already did. He knows of your slave tattoo and your deepest, darkest memory, he’s even seen you get sick while jumping into hyperspace. One must draw the line somewhere, or he’ll lose all respect for you, won’t he?

“Most people adore the Jedi,” he goes on. “They say they bring peace and justice. That they have an infallible sense of morality. That they’re heroes.”

You’ve heard it too often. You’ve heard little slave kids whisper it on the streets, you have seen girls way too young to be mothers say it with hope in their eyes. They said two Jedi knights had come, and that they would end the enslaving of thousands of people on Kessel, and all those other outer rim planets. You remember, vaguely, believing the same thing as a young child, barely even old enough to talk, but old enough to know that the Jedi were the heroes that were going to free the slaves.

Well, they came. And they took two children, who they said showed potential. Potential in the force, you assume today. And they left everyone else there, ignored the misery around them, only taking, no, _abducting_ those two children.

“Their infallible moral compass didn’t move them to change anything,” you start out, your voice shaking with anger at the memory. “The Jedi don’t care about justice. They are self-righteous and only care about people who will benefit their own order while labeling themselves knights.” Your hands are balled into fists.

“We,” he looks at you with an expression of sincerity you have never seen on him before, “will end their order. The Sith have waited centuries to reveal themselves to them, and soon it will be time. We will have revenge.”

Your shared hatred gives you a weird sense of serenity.


	6. The Time In-Between

“Look over there.” You are leaned against the wall behind Maul, looking for a clearing in the miles of forest that are spread out ahead of you. You’ve been flying low for some time now, unable to find a place to land, the density of trees too high.

The ship turns right, following the direction of your outstretched hand. And you were right; as you close in on the speck of color you spotted among the masses of green, you can tell it’s a clearing you’ve found.

“Sit down for the landing.”

You move from your position against the wall to the closest seat and sit down on it.

You can feel the ship slowing down and gently sinking. The Sith is a good pilot, managing to dodge all trees and land perfectly centered on the small clearing.

Together you leave the ship, and you close your eyes as you finally breathe in the fresh air. The sounds of the forest fill your ears and a sense of utter peace and warmth fills you.

You’ve got a good feeling about this planet—you haven’t seen any signs of civilization for miles while flying, which means you’re going to be safe from any enemies you may have made.

The zabrak seems to be satisfied with the location as well: You can tell by the way his body seems less tense than usual, his shoulders dropping down and the muscles in his face relaxing.

“My scans say there should be a source of water nearby.” He looks around in an attempt to orient himself, then looks back down on the device on his wrist. “This way.” He points to his left.

“I will go look for it.”

“Remain vigilant. We don’t know what could be hiding in this forest.”

You are somewhat touched by the way he shows he does, somehow, care about you. Reminding you to stay safe, providing you with all the materials you ask for—it seems like very little, yet it means a lot, coming from him, who otherwise seems so untouchable.

You hear a sound and freeze, holding your breath and listening intently. Was that an animal, or was that… 

_ water? _

You rush to where the steady sound of waves is coming from and indeed: a small river meanders through the forest scenery. It’s unsurprising that you didn’t see it from up in the air; the trees cover it almost entirely.

It is a beautiful sight, and it will be useful as well—instead of using up the water on the ship, you can use the river as your water supply while you’re here

You just soak it all in for a moment, contemplating to sit down, but instead decide to head back to the ship and share what you found with Maul.

You have almost made it back to the clearing, when you hear a sound again, except for this time, you know for sure it must be an animal—you are too far away from the river to still be hearing it.

A quiet crack comes from behind you, and you spin around, machete in your hand. 

You are faced with a creature that looks similar to a rabbit, maybe a little smaller, with bigger eyes, and longer limbs.

You can’t help but coo at the sheer cuteness of this animal.

“I  _ like  _ this planet” you whisper to yourself as you bend your knees slightly and get closer to the animal that’s still just staring at you. Weird—shouldn’t a creature like this be afraid of you?

Maybe, there just aren’t any predators in this place, that’s why it doesn’t show any signs of fear. Or maybe—

You let out a surprised scream as it opens its mouth to bare a set of razor-sharp teeth, saliva dripping from them. Maybe it  _ is _ the predator.

You make a run for it and hear it following closely behind. You’ve got the bad feeling that this creature is faster than you, its steps getting louder with every second.

Spotting a low-hanging branch, you jump and pull yourself up on it, hugging the branch for a second while you catch your breath.

The animal is right under you, jumping and snapping, but unable to reach you.

The shock in you finally subsides and makes room for rationality: You can probably kill this thing quite easily, you just have to avoid it getting too close to you.

You jump back down and ram your machete into its back before it can react, the beastly sounds of it finally quieting down, until silence returns to the forest.

Wiping the sweat off your brow with the back of your hand, you pick up the dead animal by its neck, deciding to take it back to the ship.

You walk for another minute before reaching the clearing. Maul, kneeling in front of an open panel on his ship, eyes up the dead body in your hands and looks like he is about to say something, but you interrupt him.

“There’s water less than three minutes from here, but if you encounter one of these bunnies, don’t fall for it.” You drop the body in front of him. “They’re carnivores.”

He opens its mouth with his fingers, exposing its pointy teeth. A frown grazes his features.

“Do you think there are more of them out there?” You ask.

His eyes close in thought.

“We can’t rule out the possibility.” He gets up from his kneeling position, now looking down at you. “We should set up shields around the ship.”

You nod, averting your gaze, suddenly intimidated by the close proximity.

Your eyes get caught on the dead animal between you. Nudging it with your foot, you ask: “You think we can eat this thing?”

“I wouldn’t risk it.” He walks to the open ramp, returning shortly after with four appliances in his arms. They slowly rise from his grasp, floating from his position to the edge of the clearing, creating a rectangle around the ship. 

“Turn those two on.” He gestures to his left, turning around to activate the other two.

After flicking a couple of switches, you are surrounded by the soft hum of functioning shields. They dim out outside noises as well, and suddenly it’s eerily quiet on the clearing. You didn’t even notice until now how loud nature can be. 

It’s the middle of the day, so you figure it would be smart to stay awake until the sun sets, to get used to the local time. This gives you about five hours to spare.

You remember the lightsaber in your bag and look over to the Sith, who doesn’t appear to be overly busy. This would be a good time to get some practice with the new weapon.

Hurriedly, you enter the ship and rummage through your bag, until your fingertips graze the cool metal handle. 

For the first time, you get a good look at the weapon, the way the components are arranged, the detail that went into it.

“What do you have there?”

His voice startles you; you didn’t hear him move to the open ramp.

“I was about to show you.” You toss him the weapon and he examines it in his hands for a second before igniting it. The blue hue feels unfamiliar, unlike his red saber, and reminds you of the Jedi that had come to your planet before.

“This belonged to a Jedi.” he assesses correctly.

“I stole it from the guild. They had taken it from one of them.” You pause. “I was hoping to learn to use it.”

He retracts the blade and throws the weapon back to you. “Usually, only force users wield them.”

“But it doesn’t need to be that way, right?” You remember igniting his lightsaber on Nar Shaddaa.

“No. It is possible to use one without any force sensitivity.”

You feel like a child receiving a gift at the prospect of being able to fight with a real lightsaber.

“But you’ll need to practice. Lightsabers are different from regular swords in many ways.”

“Will you show me?” You tear your eyes from the shiny weapon in your hands, meeting his gaze.

He ponders for a minute. 

“I believe this will be beneficial, yes.”

You try to not let your giddiness show, but inside you are squealing with delight.

The powerful weapon is lighter than you expected and balanced differently from your usual sword. Its weight resides mostly in its handle, making it suitable for twirling and faster movements. Also, you need to use much less force to do damage, but at the same time, you need to be extremely careful to not hurt yourself by accidentally letting it touch you. 

You figured all of this out on your own in the past few minutes. Now, Maul is standing before you, red lightsaber ignited, ready to test what you’ve managed to pick up so far. 

It’s a good thing you are already very familiar with fighting with a sword, you think. 

You come at him slowly, experimentally, and for the first time, you experience the feeling of two lightsabers pressing against each other. It sends a weird vibration through your arms. With a little more force, Maul pushes against your hold and sends you stumbling backward, but you collect yourself once more and come at him again, this time actually trying different moves and getting into a proper sparring session, though he doesn’t appear to be overly challenged by your efforts. He ends up winning by getting you into a position in which you are forced to lower your lightsaber to protect your legs, and then quickly pointing his saber to your neck, not getting it close enough to actually hurt you, but enough to prove that—in a real battle—he would have been able to. 

Somehow, that demonstration of power is very attractive to you. 

You just stand there for a moment, slightly out of breath, until he retracts his saber.

“You are a good fighter.” His statement catches you by surprise, not expecting a compliment.

“I… Thank you?” You don’t know what to say.

Your eyes fall on his lightsaber.

“I’ve been meaning to ask—Why is your lightsaber handle so long?”

He steps further back from you, holding it in front of him and reigniting it, but suddenly, the other side is ignited too—a double-bladed saber.

Fascination flashes through your eyes as you muster the weapon with wonder, tilting your head.

“Is this common?”

He shakes his head, retracting the two blades. “It requires years of practice.”

Something inside you wants to ask him if you can use it, but you suppress the desire to hold the unusual weapon. Maybe another time.

You hate to admit it, but you’re bored. With the shields up, not even the sounds of the forest are there to entertain you, and you feel cut off from the rest of the world. For the past few hours you’ve taken to throwing the ball against the shield and catching it when it ricochets off of it, lazily sitting on the grass with your back against the spaceship. 

The sun finally sets, painting the sky stunning colors, and you decide it’s time to get some rest and fall into the planet’s natural rhythm. Maul disappeared inside the ship not long ago, you think he was in the shower.

Now, as you enter the ship, you can hear his footsteps upstairs, but you pay no mind to it. You down a bottle of water and flop down on the bed, really wishing there was a curtain to give you at least some kind of privacy.    
You stay on top of the covers and close your eyes, trying to fall asleep, but the lack of noise around you is unsettling. Instead of the hum of the spaceship, the chirping of the birds, or even the bustling streets of Kessel, there is nothing but silence, only occasionally interrupted by footsteps on the floor above you.

You awaken just as the sun rises. Maul is nowhere to be seen, but the sheets on his bed are slightly messed up, indicating he actually slept in here for some time. You feel weirdly embarrassed at the thought of him seeing you asleep, in such a vulnerable state, but it’s somewhat nice to know that he trusts you enough to sleep in your presence.

The outside air is slightly cooler than the day before, giving you goosebumps as you exit the ship, but it’s the perfect temperature for physical activity.

As a contract killer, it’s always been important that you stay in perfect shape and have one hundred percent control over every muscle. You don’t intend to change that anytime soon, so you start warming up and quickly move to some exercises, making use of the few trees that are still within your shields. The air on this planet is much better than Kessel’s polluted atmosphere, and you feel like your stamina is at an all-time high.

You have been at it for about an hour and have taken to stretching out again when you hear steps approaching. You are in the middle of doing a split and not really in any position to get up, but you turn your head—just in time to catch the wooden staff he is throwing your way.

Is this his way of asking you to spar with him? Truly, not a very vocal man, though you aren’t very talkative either.

You push yourself off the ground and weigh the staff in your hands, remembering the days when you would be forced to practice with a staff just like this for hours and hours. You would say that you have gotten quite good at it overall this time, even though you never saw the point in practicing so much with a staff instead of a sword - not once have you been in a situation in which you seriously had to fight an enemy with just a staff.

But there was probably an underlying reason nobody ever bothered to explain to you.

And, also, it is kind of fun.

Twirling the staff in your hand once, you get into a fighting stance, feeling admittedly a little excited to be in a  _ fair _ fight with him. 

“A fair fight, you say?”

Your mouth falls open as you stare at him. 

“Did you… read my mind?” 

He starts spinning the staff in his hands, approaching you, when you decide to go into the offense, immediately extending the staff towards him and starting your attack by executing forceful and fast-paced blows with both sides of your staff, twisting and spinning, and just completely giving in to your intuition.

“You are not shielding it.” He says in between chains of attack, pushing down on your staff forcefully. 

“That’s exactly,” you grunt as you push him away, “what I meant. Mind tricks are cheating.”

He scoffs but stays quiet after that. 

This session is much more even than when you tried the lightsaber. Both of you have years of practice with this medium, at least you assume he has judging by his aptitude with the weapon, so it’s unsurprising that neither of you really have the upper hand. Sometimes, Maul ends up with the staff pointing straight at your neck, sometimes the roles are reversed.

It’s after a particularly long round that you decide you’ve had enough of the staff and toss it to the side, facing your opponent with a challenging look. He hesitates, but eventually gives in and follows your lead, obviously less comfortable without any kind of weapon in his hands, which is exactly what you anticipated his reaction to be.

Because most people you fight are bigger than you, you rely on speed and the efficient use of your body weight, as well as your flexibility, meaning you jump and kick a lot and make full use of the agility you’ve worked on for years.

Maul, however, is shockingly swift in his movements as well, despite the fact that hand-to-hand combat is clearly not his preferred method of fighting.

You dive under his swing and execute a smooth roundhouse kick, immediately spinning a second time, and landing a hit at the side of his face. You didn’t go full-power, since you’re just sparring, but it was strong enough to get him to stumble the tiniest bit, giving you the opportunity to come running up to him and wrap your left leg around his side, jumping up while rotating your hips and effectively throwing him to the ground under you.

You try to fight the triumphant grin that is trying to make its way on your face, always having been taught to not let any emotions shine through in combat - but sitting on his side, your legs wrapped around his and his arms pinned to the ground next to his head with one hand, the other holding on to his neck, restricting all movement, you finally feel like you have  _ won _ , which you didn’t realize until now was something you were in desperate need of after having lost to him in the alley. You never thought self-doubt and insecurity could manifest in you so fast, but apparently, one defeat was all it took to bring you down. Luckily, your self-esteem recovers just as fast as it collapses.

Panting, you look down at the zabrak and suddenly really  _ feel  _ the sensation of skin-to-skin contact, noticing how warm his skin is against yours, how close you are to him, how this is the first time you actually  _ touch _ ...

You stare at his larger hands next to yours, realizing that for once he is not wearing his leather gloves, red and black fingers finally exposed to your lingering gaze—

With a ruck he frees himself from your hold on him, you too distracted to react in time. His hand shoots up to your shoulder and pushes it back, using his leg to spin you onto your back and press you into the ground. 

You open your mouth to protest, but can’t think of anything to say other than  _ ‘It’s not fair, I was busy staring at you and being touch-starved!’ _

So there you are, buried underneath his form, just blinking at him disappointedly. You could swear that amusement is flickering in the corners of his hypnotizingly yellow glowing eyes. The only sound heard is the two of you breathing hard, your heart thumping in your chest.

He remains in his position on top of you for a moment longer than one usually would while sparring, before abruptly standing up, briefly hesitating, and then stretching his hand out to help you get up. You take it, his skin again unexpectedly hot and far softer than it looks.

How come somebody with a life as violent as his has such…  _ nice  _ hands?

“Once again, you are not shielding your thoughts.”

Embarrassment fills you as you realize he just heard you call his hands ‘nice and soft’. 

“Nobody said you had to listen to them!” you snap defensively, unable to think of something better to reply while you feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, quickly turning away from him to keep him from seeing your blush.

You’ll have to figure out how to protect your thoughts better in the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooh, reader is a little touch-starved you say? Not gonna lie, I wouldn’t mind my favorite zabrak gently pinning me to the ground either,,, as always, thanks for reading and a huge thanks to everyone who comments, I love you very much :')


	7. The Obstacle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: there are mentions of violence/kind of surgical procedures in this chapter. It's not super graphic, but i wanted to put out a warning still

It’s your third day on Lannik. You are sitting inside the spaceship, just having left the refresher, when you hear hectic footsteps upstairs. Something is up, you can tell the zabrak is worried about something since the first time you’ve seen him this morning, and if it’s grave enough to worry the Sith lord, it should unsettle you too.

Only, you have no idea what’s wrong.

When you enter the cockpit, he is looking at what seems to be security footage from outside the ship.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, growing more and more worried by the minute, not missing the way his shoulders are tense under his robe, pupils contracted to small black dots in his eyes.

“I’ve got the feeling we are not alone in this forest.”

“The feeling?”

He grows impatient. “The force is telling me somebody else is here.”

“So what do we do?” You don’t want to leave Lannik. Despite its deceitful fauna, you enjoy the sense of peace it brings you.

“We scout the area. Be alert at all times, bring your weapon, whoever this is must have followed us.”

You don’t even question how they would have found you here, but instead rush after him as he leaves the cockpit, grabbing your weapons when you exit the ship.

He deactivates one of the shields so you can both leave the clearing. “I’ll take this side, you go there. If you encounter something, make as much noise as you can and I will come.”

Taking your surroundings in, you allow your hunting instincts to take over you. You quiet your breathing and let your eyes scan the densely grown forest. All you can hear, however, is the singing of birds above you.

You scout the area for another hour, before coming back to the ship. Maul returns shortly after you arrive.

“Did you find anything?” You ask.

“Nothing. I -” He freezes all of a sudden, eyes focused on something in the air you can’t see.

“Somebody was here. I can still feel their energy.” He hurries towards the ship, hand at the handle of his lightsaber.

Worriedly, you follow, but nothing seems different inside.

“Whoever it was, they didn’t take anything. And I couldn’t find any detonators either.”

“What about the holocams?”

“Disabled.”

“So what was their goal?” You sit down on the closest seat, elbows propped up on your knees.

“I… don’t know.” His voice sounds deeper than usual, the worry evident in it.

Your stomach makes itself known and you realize you haven’t eaten all day, the intruder all that’s been on your mind. You grab a ration bar from the box and start unwrapping it when Maul gets up from his seat.

“I’ll be outside.”

While eating, you let your eyes roam the room, still unable to find anything out of place. They must have done _something_ , why else would they risk entering the spaceship? What is their goal, if not to take something? Are they after Maul or are they after -

A metallic taste spreads in your mouth and you freeze, checking your mouth for any blood, but there is none. Weird, where did-

You gasp as you fall to your knees, clutching your calf that is spasming. This is not good, these are all symptoms of-

“Gah!” Other muscles start spasming too, light flashing before your eyes, your nerves feeling like they have been set on fire. You force your body to move to the elevator and barely manage to leave it when the doors slide open again, crawling to the open ramp, half falling down the sloping surface.

You try to say his name, but all you can bring out is an incoherent array of sounds as it becomes hard to breathe, your back now arching against your will, jaw muscles tightening painfully. You cover your eyes with the back of your hand, trying to protect them from the agonizing light that is blinding you.

From a distance, you hear words in a language you don’t understand, steps approaching, a hand touching your shoulder.

With everything you still have in you, you manage to form one word.

“Strychnine”

The touch leaves you, and you black out.

When you come back to your senses, the first thing you feel is pain in your muscles, and a throbbing headache. Cautiously, you open your eyes, the dim red light surprisingly gentle on them.

You are laying on your bed, on top of the covers. Carefully, you move to sit up, which hurts unexpectedly little.The only thing other than your head that actually hurts quite a bit is your left arm. You look at it and are able to see a puncture wound, probably from a needle.

“They poisoned the food.”

You are startled to see the zabrak sitting on the other bed, only now made aware of his presence.

“Guess so.” You reply, your voice raspy and not sounding like you at all.

Slowly, you roll your head on your shoulder, trying to somewhat ease the pain it’s emitting.

“The headache will go away on its own.” He pauses. “Other than that, how are you feeling?”

You grunt. “Fine. At least now we know who’s out here.”

The Sith lord looks confused for a second. “We do?”

“Strychnine is my guild’s go-to poison. They have enough stored to take out an entire army.”

“They’re after you because you left.” He concludes. “But how did they find us?”

That is a good question. They had no way of following you, and surely they can’t have placed a tracking device anywhere, right?

“Whatever signal they get can’t come from the ship, it suppresses all signals.”

“So it must be from a person?”

“I can run a scan.” He looks down at the device on his wrist, typing something.

“Follow me, we have to be outside for it.” Nervousness seeps through your being. The Concinnity wants you dead, and whoever they sent is still out there. You know their people, who used to be _your_ people, and you’ve seen what they can do - you need to avoid a confrontation at all costs.

The device starts beeping, the noise getting louder as Maul comes closer to you

“The signal is coming from you.” “What? That’s impossible, how-” You take off your heavy jacket and toss it aside, leaving you in your black longsleeve, but the sound is unchanging.

You search your mind, trying to figure out where they could possibly place a tracking device, while unfastening your utility belt and throwing it to the jacket. All your other weapons and gadgets follow, but still-

The device emits the same noise.

“I am out of ideas” You start stuttering. “There is no… no way that they could… I don’t…”

Realization hits you like a punch in the face and you break out in cold sweat.

You run back to the ship, straight to the refresher where you violently free yourself from the shirt you’re wearing, left in only the cloth that wraps around your chest area tightly, torso mostly exposed. You turn around to try to examine your back in the mirror, hand reaching over your shoulder. For the first time since you got it as a child, you truly touch the Concinnity emblem that is tattooed on the skin between your shoulder blades, fingers shaking but still very much capable of feeling the small ridges under your skin, where the wires must lead to the miniscule tracking device installed right under the emblem.

You bite your arm in an attempt to muffle the cry of fury you let out at the discovery.

That’s why they did it at such a young age, and at a spot that is so hard to reach by oneself.

They never trusted you, or anyone for that matter. This whole time-

“What is it?” You can hear Maul’s voice from outside the refresher. Shaking, you turn around and look into the mirror again, bracing yourself for what needs to be done.

You open the door, still only covered up with the piece of fabric that’s 4 inches wide at most, so much skin exposed to the eyes of the zabrak, who now definitely is taken aback.

You can see his eyes widen in surprise, gaze falling down for a brief second, before focusing on your face again.

“I’ve found the source of the signal.” You say grimly. “But I will need your help removing it.”

“I have numbing cream, but it won’t do much.”

Nausea overcomes you at the thought of a device implanted _under_ your skin. “Just do it. I…” You grit your teeth. “I just need to get rid of it.”

The zabrak stands behind you, inspecting the area between your shoulder blades, not touching your skin, just _looking_.

You’re in the passengers’ seating area behind the cockpit, where the light is better.

Handing him a knife from the strap around your thigh, you nervously hold on to the wall before you, lowering your head between your arms.

His hand ghosts over the skin on your back, warm fingers feeling for the wires underneath it.

“One cut right in the middle of the emblem should be sufficient.” He states quietly. You hope he can’t see the goosebumps you get on your arms because of the proximity of his voice, combined with the feathery touch on the sensitive skin of your back.

“I’ll need to move this.” He softly nudges the fabric that’s probably covering up part of the tattoo. All you can manage to bring out is a weak ‘uh-huh’, mentally preparing yourself for what is about to come.

“Try to relax your muscles.”

The cut is almost gentle, if possible, not nearly as painful as other injuries you’ve sustained in your career. What _is_ painful, however, is the sensation of having the wires pulled out from under your skin. Everything about it feels wrong and unnatural, and you clench your teeth, tears shooting into your eyes while you pull in a sharp breath.

It’s over much quicker than you anticipated.

“Wait, I’m getting bandages.”

He gets a small box from the cockpit, right back behind you and applying something over the cut. Instead of focusing on the stinging on your back, you decide to listen to his slow and steady breathing, and his gentle touch on your back.

You can’t help but crave more of it. Growing up among contract killers, you have never been shown much affection, let alone been touched in a gentle or loving way, except when you visited your mother secretly, which happened about every other year, until she was killed. Even then, the person before you seemed like a stranger, not the woman from your earliest memories.

As you grew older, attachments were forbidden, no relationships, no lovers. It is safe to say that now, at 19, almost 20 years old, you are absolutely touch-starved.

“Done.”

You let go of the wall, and shakily sit down on the closest seat, burying your head in your hands.

“Not a great day.” You mumble.

“I… I don’t enjoy this.” He says. “Inflicting pain on you.”

You glance at him through your fingers, and he looks down to you with so much sincerity in his golden eyes that you feel like your heart stops beating for a second.

“We need to change locations.” He says quietly, more to himself than to you. “I’ll get the ship ready for take-off.”

You watch as the trees of Lannik grow smaller and smaller, until all you can see is green and eventually, the planet itself disappears in the distance.

“Nobody is following us.” Maul announces and relief floods through you. Whoever they sent must have not realized you got rid of the tracker yet. Hopefully, this will be the end of it.

“ _Incoming call”_ The mechanical computer voice signals, not giving you any time to prepare but putting the holocall straight through. A cloaked person appears before Maul, you out of reach for the hologram.

“Apprentice, we have received the information. The major opponent is Tarlson Zih, he resides on Cato Neimoidia. You will receive the details momentarily. Take him out, but it cannot be known we were involved.”

“Understood, my master.”

“We will continue to monitor the situation there after this, but for now he is the only threat to our control over the Trade Federation.”

“Yes, master.”

You are surprised at the submission Maul is showing, wondering how powerful his master must be if somebody this strong bows their head in obedience to him.

The holocall ends, and immediately the screen flickers with data being transferred. You step closer as the projection of a palace opens up. Maul touches his chin in thought as his eyes scan the map, blue light illuminating his skin.

“His sleeping quarters are located in the southwest corner. If you cause a distraction in the front, I can sneak inside and kill him.”

The rest of the flight to Cato Neimoidia you spend figuring out the details to the plan. The Sith won’t be able to make use of his lightsaber in order to not reveal himself yet, considering the high surveillance.

You will plant detonators at the front of the palace, take out some guards after they’ve requested reinforcements, then proceed to run to the east corner, in the hopes of guards closer to the west corner leaving their posts, allowing Maul to sneak in amongst the chaos. Any guards he does encounter can be killed by him, or be manipulated through the force.

You already know your job is going to be the riskier one, purposely drawing the attention of the guards and creating chaos - it’s the opposite of what you’ve always been taught.

You can only hope the plan executes as smoothly as it was planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, if Maul lightly touched my back I would probably pass out ,,,,  
> all comments are very appreciated :)))


	8. The Distraction

It’s nighttime on Cato Neimoidia when you arrive and land a short walk away from Tarlson Zih’s palace. Your gear is weighing you down even more than usual, having brought every gadget and weapon you could think of. Tonight, it wasn’t _in case_ of a fight - you already know you’ll face many enemies, which fills you with a certain nervousness, as well as adrenaline. The wound on your back is still hurting, even though it is healing fine. You’re glad to feel the pain, you feel like it makes you stronger to be uncomfortable in your own skin.

You get closer to the high walls that surround the palace. The only way in is either to scale the walls, that also have electricity running over them, or to walk through the front gate, where there are four guards in full armor, and some more further up the stairs that lead to the entrance of the palace itself.

Maul gives you a nod and turns right, following the wall closer to the palace itself. You, on the other hand, continue walking to the front gate. While you distract the guards, Maul should be able to slip into the palace - that’s the plan, at least. When you asked him earlier about how he was going to get over the wall without being electrocuted, he just answered he’d use the force.

You don’t have that option, so you have to come sneak up on the guards from the side.

Still crouched down, you toss a smoke detonator as close to them as you can. With their heads up high, they don’t even see it rolling to their feet, before it goes off.

Using the fact that you know their exact locations to your advantage, you hurry through the smoke and slice their throats almost blindly, eyes tearing up.

Of course the next four guards that are posted further up the stairs are able to see the cloud of smoke hanging over the gate, and you can hear screams, followed by footsteps.

Not caring about stealth anymore, you throw a detonator, that explodes as soon as it hits the heavy stone that the stairs are made of. The sound would be deafening to anyone not wise enough to cover their ears, and you are sure you must have taken out at least two of them through the explosion.

Leaving the smoke, you can indeed see two guards dead on the floor, and two more running in your direction. They don’t have time to react to you emerging from the smoke, your blaster firing before they can say a word, let alone shoot at you.

Hurrying up the rest of the stairs, you can already tell by the panicked voices from inside that your distraction is turning out to be quite effective. Sword in one, blaster in the other hand, you enter through the now unguarded arc that marks the entrance to the palace.

A small group of men shuffles to a stop upon spotting you, yelling something in a foreign language. You break into a sprint towards them, shooting two in the process, rolling over the ground to dodge the blasterfire, stabbing the third guard as you jump back up and delivering a solid kick to the other one’s jaw before slicing his throat.

You straighten your posture and try to dust yourself off a little before proceeding. It’s your task to cause chaos in the East wing, so that the West wing is all clear for Maul. You turn right, throwing another detonator into the large corridor, just trying to attract more guards. Pressing your back against a pillar you shield your body from the explosion and remain hidden until the next guards arrive.

This one is a group of at least six, so you wait until they’re close enough to be overwhelmed by your surprise attack from the shadows. The first three get shot in the head in a matter of seconds, the next ones are just able to cry out as you jump out from your hideout, knocking one over with your entire body and smashing his head into the floor, breaking his skull - it’s probably your least favorite way to kill, because of the sheer brutality of the act, but it’s still necessary occasionally.

You roll onto your side, just barely missing a blaster shot, and propel yourself onto your feet again, spinning and slashing at one of the two leftover men. He drops to the floor, clutching the gaping wound, while you finish off the last one.

You quickly move to the east corner, but shortly before you can reach it, you hear voices and many footsteps, coming your way at an alarming speed.

You have faith in your abilities, but you’re not stupid enough to think you’d be able to take out more than a dozen soldiers at once, not when they’re armed with blasters and you don’t have any way of blocking their fire.

You spin on your heel and run back to where you came from. Your heart leaps in your chest when you see Maul approaching from the West wing. Speeding up a little, you throw a glance over your shoulder, catching sight of the first guards who make it around the corner. Blindly, you throw a detonator over your shoulder. Screams are heard, then the force of the explosion almost knocks you off your feet, making you stumble. By now, you’ve almost reached the zabrak, your confidence feeling up again. You can still hear footsteps closely behind you, and without needing to look behind you to locate the exact position of the guard, you swerve to your right, running a step up the wall, throwing yourself right at him and impaling him with your sword.

Quickly, you get next to Maul, who extends his hand to the front, sending the enemy’s blasters flying his way. Terrified yelps are heard, and you close in on them again, now definitely having the upper hand.

Body after body drops - it’s worse than the massacre on Nar Shaddaa.

Finally, the last man falls, and you walk back to the Sith Lord, about to comment on the scene, confident you had eradicated all nearby threats.

Everything that happens next seems to take place in slow motion. Maul grabs your arm harshly and pulls you to him at the same time that you hear a blaster being fired from the West side of the building, shooting right through the place you were standing seconds before. Your eyes widen in surprise as you collide with his chest roughly, breath catching in your throat. Your head whips around to see a single guard standing in the hallway.

Panting, you look up at Maul, who still is gripping your arm and holding you close to him, shock visible on your face, lips parted slightly. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he stretches out his hand and uses the force to choke the man. You can’t look away from his hypnotizing eyes, not even realizing you’re leaning in until his other hand lets go of your arm, instead grabbing the back of your head and locking your lips with his. You melt into the touch, your heart skipping a beat and your hand automatically flying to the side of his neck, the other resting on his chest.

You faintly hear a thud coming from your right as he lowers his still outstretched hand and places it on the small of your back, pressing you to him even more tightly. The hand he has on your head moves around it, now cupping the side of your face with a strong yet incredibly gentle grip. The intensity of the intimate touch is almost overwhelming to your senses and you feel like your legs are about to give in.

Your moment is interrupted by the sound of more guards coming closer, as well as your unfortunate need to breathe. Hesitantly, you pull away from each other, Maul’s eyes still hooded, giving him a briefly vulnerable appearance.

Slowly, he lets go of you and turns to face the intruders, a quiet growl rumbling in his throat. The sound sends chills down your spine and you try to snap out of the haze you’re still in, mentally preparing yourself for having to fight again, but instead, the Sith stretches out both arms, curling his fingers and sending the at least twenty men crashing into the high ceiling, before smashing them to the floor with the force.

“Let’s go,” is all he says.

You follow after him as he hurries to the exit, already seeing a crowd of people standing at the gates down the stairs from afar.

“What are we going to do about them?”

He assesses the situation. “We won’t walk through the front gates.”

“Then how-”

“The wall.”

You stare up at the wall that towers at least 20 feet above you with an even higher drop on the other side, and electrical power running over it.

“I can’t use the force to-” He doesn’t allow you to finish, instead using the force to send you hurling into him, one arm wrapping around your waist tightly, before pushing himself off the ground with a power you didn’t think was possible, successfully catapulting you two over the wall and slowing down just before meeting the ground on the other side.

Without meaning to, you have clutched his shoulders uncomfortably tight while burying your face in the crook of his neck at the sensation of falling about fifty feet, the drop much higher than you expected. Embarrassed by how scared you got, you let go of your hold on him and stumble a few steps as soon as your feet meet the ground again.

“Next time you do that, give me a warning.” Your high pitched voice betrays you, making your terror all too obvious.

“I assumed somebody with a life like yours could handle a little jump.”

There he was, _teasing_ you with that unfaltering expression on his face. You are too exhausted and shaken up to retort, thoughts and emotions racing through your mind.

The walk to the ship is short, and you immediately drop onto a seat in the passengers’ area, tired, but with too many things on your mind to even consider sleep at this moment.

“This will be a good planet to refuel and restock before we leave again.” Maul determines, already lifting the ship off the ground. “It won’t take long.”

In only a few minutes you’ve reached a fuel station. Maul tells you you can stay inside, which you’re thankful for. You move to the cockpit to catch a look at the place, but there is not much to see other than a long hangar. Leaning against the wall behind you, you wait for him to come back.

He returns not long after, taking off again. Setting the ship to auto pilot, he swivels in his chair to face you. At your position next to his chair, you’re close to him, and there is this unbearable desire to get even closer, to feel his touch again, feel the same tickling sensation of his lips moving against yours. You are sure he can see those thoughts you are having, they are practically screaming inside your head.

He looks at you with something that looks like confusion in his glowing eyes.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, your voice breathy and unusually soft.

He struggles to find the words to explain. “I… No one has ever…”

“Shown they care for you?” Something akin to a sad smile shows just how much you understand.

His gaze is now averted, eyes narrowed in thought. You feel tired, but don’t want to leave the cockpit just yet, so instead you slide down the wall and sit on the floor, hands resting on your propped up knees, head leaning against the wall.

You can see his gaze dropping to your hand, and ever so slowly, he extends his own, which you only now notice is ungloved, until his fingertips graze the back of your hand, moving over to your fingers, gently turning your hand so that your palms are facing up, then sliding his fingers between yours and intertwining them. It’s an incredibly soft touch, almost as if he is experimenting, for the first time showing affection like this.

You can’t focus on anything else but the warmth of his hand in yours while you stare at his tattooed hand, admiring the way the black lines move over his red skin. Never have you felt this connected to a person before, never have you shared a moment this deeply intimate yet innocent with anyone.

Your eyes flutter closed as the exhaustion overcomes you and you feel yourself drifting to sleep, hand still in his.

You wake up when the ship comes to a halt. Slightly disoriented, you squint your eyes against the sudden light entering them from the front viewport. You realize you’re still sitting on the floor next to the pilot’s seat, one hand in your lap and the other…

_Oh._

Your left hand is still intertwined with Maul’s, whose focus is on a list displayed in front of of him. Heat rises to your cheeks, something that’s rarely ever happened before.

“We’re going to stock up on some things inside. Synthskin, Bacta spray, pain medication, and some rations.”

You nod, even though he can’t see that, so you mumble an “uh-huh” right after.

Glancing at it, he slowly lets go of your hand while getting up. You follow his example and exit the ship together with him.

The hangar you’re in doesn’t seem too busy, but you can already see from outside that there are a few people inside the store Maul has chosen. You are not overly worried since you are still in the same gear you wore to the palace and heavily armed. If anyone would pick a fight with you, the odds would be against them, at least if it was only one or two people.

Entering the store, you notice that it’s not random travelers that occupy the sketchy place, but most likely a group of bounty hunters, judging by their equipment and the bounty pucks situated on their belts.

“You get some rations, I will look for the medical things.” Maul instructs you quietly, turning into an aisle on his left. You walk straight ahead, passing the bounty hunters, to where you can see boxes of ration bars stacked up against the wall. Grabbing one, you are about to head to the medical section to meet Maul, when you freeze in your movements.

The quiet chatter among the bounty hunters has stopped; it is suddenly suspiciously quiet in the store. Slowly, hand on your blaster, you turn around to face them.

All five of them are staring at you and you’ve got the feeling that you’re in danger.

“Is there something I can help you with?” You snap.

One of them slowly shakes his head before turning his back to you once more.

You hurry to meet Maul who is grabbing the last item and moving to the bored Neimoidian at the register.

“Something is up with the bounty hunters.” You whisper, looking at him intently.

“Let’s hurry then.”

You pay and leave the shop as quickly as possible, but you haven’t even made it halfway to the ship when the sound of the door opening and closing once more makes you stop and whirl around.

“What do you want?” Maul asks, baring his teeth.

“We don’t have any quarrels with you.” One of them answers in a heavily accented Basic. “We only want the woman.”

“That is not an option. Step off, and we may forget this ever happened.” The threat in his statement is clear, and he is stepping closer to them in front of you, in a kind of protective manner.

“Who sent you?” Your voice remains unaltered, unfazed by the threat they pose. You’re sure they won’t be a match for Maul and you together.

Another one of them starts laughing coldly. “Who sent us? We are the last link in the chain. The kind of credits that are on _your_ head attract many organizations, hunters send out hunters, who send out more hunters.” He licks his lips. “I could buy a new ship with just half the reward I will get for you.”

Unsheathing your sword and pointing your blaster at them, you step up next to Maul.

“That seems awfully confident of you,” you start out, a sickly sweet tone to your voice. “Have you not even once wondered why the price might be so high?”

All of the five hunters get into a ready stance, raising their axes and heavy blasters. As if you haven’t had to fight enough today already, now they are going to fight you too? You’re just glad Maul is with you, despite him still not using his lightsaber. The chances of somebody seeing are too high.

You jump to the side and roll behind a thick crate, pressing your back against it as blaster fire ensues. In the shiny metal of a nearby freighter, you can see the reflection of one of the hunters running to the crate, unaware that you can see him. Without moving your head from its protected place behind the wood, you lift your blaster and shoot around the corner, only able to aim through the distorted reflection. The shot is fine, grazing his side, but not fully taking him out yet. You can see the others are distracted by Maul blocking their fire, so you sprint to the man who is now lying on the ground clutching his side and finish him with a shot in the head. The other four are still too occupied with the Sith to see you coming, it’s only when you slit one’s throat from behind him that the others notice your presence, too slow to block your incoming sword.

Silence falls over the hangar once again as you turn to Maul.

“This is going to be a problem.” You bow down to grab the bounty puck from the belt of one of the bodies. Activating it, you are faced with a hologram of your body from the waist up, as well as some basic information to your person.

“Human female, 19 years old, native to Kessel,” Maul reads out. “Tattoos on abdomen, ankle and back. Last known location: Lannik.” Following that is some information to your height and weight. It’s the last line that makes your jaw drop:

“Reward: 180,000 credits, dead or alive”

You grit your teeth. “Now that they can’t track me anymore they send others out to get me.” You kick an empty crate in frustration. You knew this would eventually happen, but something inside you hoped until now that they would just let it go after losing your tracking signal. Guess you were wrong about that.

“We can take care of this later.” The bass of his voice is calming, even though his tone is pressing. “Now, let’s leave.”

“180,000 credits is going to have a lot of bounty hunters on my trail.” You state, a deep frown etched into the skin on your forehead. Maul has gotten up from his seat in the front, now standing leaned against the wall before you, arms crossed in front of his muscular chest.

“I need to find something I can use against them, some kind of-” “You need rest.” His voice is calm but commanding, catching you off guard.

“Huh?” You say dumbly.

“On the ride here you passed out on the floor within minutes. Your body is exhausted.” He looks at you intensely, your cheeks flushing again at the memory of the skin contact.

“So I rested on the way here!” You throw your hands up in frustration: Not at him - at the world, at the Concinnity, at the stupid bounty hunters, the kriffing tingling in your stomach-

“That was less than thirty minutes.”

“How can you be so calm? Do you have any idea what they do to people who try to _leave_? I’ll be better off dead than if they bring me back alive!” You jump up from your seat. “I have seen it myself, the things they-” Your rant is interrupted by black dots impairing your vision and your legs giving in, sending you stumbling into Maul who catches you effortlessly in his arms. You try to blink away the blackness and get back on your feet, Maul’s arm grasping your biceps, holding you steady.

You rub your eyes with the back of your hand and frown once more upon realizing you just proved his point.

He lifts his hand and, tentatively, strokes over your forehead with his index finger, smoothing out the ridges between your eyebrows. Your muscles relax and you allow your eyes to close for a second, taking a deep breath. When his hand drops back to his side, you look at him once more, his face so close to yours. The height difference is minimal, but it’s there, with him a few inches taller than you, forcing you to tilt your head back just a little.

He searches for a sign from you, his eyes roaming your face for a silent permission. You move in the tiniest bit and he closes the gap between you, this time pressing his lips to yours more softly. His hands cup your face on both sides, as if to just hold you in this place forever, just holding you between his hands.

Your hands fly up to his chest once more, feeling his heartbeat, no, _two_ heartbeats. For the briefest second, you pull away, blinking in confusion.

“Two hearts,” he mumbles.

“I see.” You whisper, reconnecting your lips with his, revelling in the warmth he is radiating.

His hands move from your cheeks to your shoulders and gently, he pushes you back, forcing you to break away.

“You need rest.” He murmurs.

“You say that now?” You respond, amusement resonating in your tired voice.

“Come on.” His hand on your back, he softly steers you into the lift and to your sleeping compartment. You no longer fight it, since the tiredness is seeping deep inside every one of your bones.

“Alright, alright,” you mutter, sitting down on the mattress and starting to untie your combat boots. Next comes your belt, your jacket, the straps around your thighs and lastly, the small knife hidden directly on your person, under the fabric tied around your chest area to… keep everything “together”. The zabrak’s eyes widen in surprise as you reach directly into your shirt, pulling out the small weapon, though he recomposes himself quickly, clearing his throat.

“For what scenario was that one intended?” The expression on his face is unreadable again.

“A worst case one.” You reply, yawning into your hand and letting yourself drop on top of the covers.

Quickly, all outside noise is tuned out and you fall into a deep slumber, half aware that Maul hasn’t left the room and is probably lying down too. At any other given time, you would have tried to sneak a peek at the sleeping Sith lord, but right now you are too consumed by sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It happened!! Yay! I would love to hear some feedback cause I was trying really hard to make him stay in character even during the fluffy parts, hope it felt natural :)  
> Much love to everyone reading this!!!


	9. The Problem-Solving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a few announcements at the end so make sure to check them out <3

As usual when you sleep on a spaceship, you wonder if you have reached your destination when you finally wake up. It’s only then that you realize you’re probably not even flying anywhere until you have come up with a plan on how to take care of the bounty hunter situation you’re in, so chances are, you’re just floating around in space.

You open your eyes, secretly hoping Maul is still sleeping in the sleeping compartment a few feet away from you, which of course is delusional considering you have probably been out for much longer than he’d ever be.

“You’re awake” He states, turning in his chair to look at you when you leave the lift, freshly out of the refresher.

“Guess so.” The hint of a smile plays around your lips. “I’ve been thinking about the bounty hunters.” You lazily lean against the wall that partially separates the cockpit from the passengers seating area..

“If we don’t get rid of the source, we are going to have this problem for a long time.”

“You’re saying we should go back to Kessel?”

You nod, not too happy about it either.

“Kessel is over two days from here.” He says while typing the coordinates into the system.

“All the more time to figure out a more detailed plan.” You note.

“Something else has been on my mind,” you begin. “Are you still… reading my mind? Like, on a regular basis?”

The zabrak flinches.

“Since I have seen your dislike towards it, I have tried… avoiding it. But I can't help feeling your mood through the force.” He turns his full attention to you now. “And when you are upset by something, or excited, your thoughts are _loud_. It’s hard not to listen.”

You let the information sink in, before you get an idea. “Can you- can you project your thoughts?”

He closes his eyes in focus, when all of a sudden, you hear his voice inside your head:

‘ _Yes, I can. I assumed you would consider it too… intrusive_.’

You widen your eyes in fascination.

‘ _So we can communicate just like this?’_

‘ _If you want to.’_

Images of possibilities to use this ability flash before your inner eye.

“So, if we were in, say, a crowd, would you hear everyone’s thoughts equally?”

“It’s easier to pick out familiar energies.”

He seems slightly amused at your childlike fascination with the force.

“Is there anything else?”

You think for a second. “Just one more thing,” if you’re already bombarding him with questions, you might as well ask all of them, “How long have you been trained to be a Sith… apprentice?” You hope you used the right term.

He looks away from you now, looking into the endless distance in front of him, not answering for a while.

“Our lives have played out very… similar to each other.” He speaks slowly, each word well thought out.

“How so?”

“I was born a nightbrother, born to serve the order of the nightsisters, a group of force users on Dathomir.” You’ve heard of the society on Dathomir before, but never paid much mind to the stories of the witches living there.

“Like you, I was taken in by my master, and made to be… more.” He pauses, still staring into the emptiness of space. “Maybe this similarity is the reason I am so… that my mind is so _occupied_ with you.” He faces you with the kind of raw emotion in his eyes that makes your breath stutter a little. You wonder if he can feel your emotions right now, when you yourself aren’t even sure what they are.

“ _Jumping to Hyperspace in one minute ”_

“You should” he clears his throat, “sit down.”

_Panic._

There is no doubt that he can feel it, there is hardly anything else on your mind at this very moment, only panic at the prospect of jumping into hyperspace again, the thought of your body accelerating and you not being in control of it making you lose sense of your surroundings. It wasn’t this bad last time, why now? Your breathing is picking up speed as you look around you to find something to protect yourself from the invisible impending threat, forgetting about the Sith’s presence until he grabs your hand and quickly leads you around the wall, sitting down in the corner with his back against it, gently tugging on your hand to ask you to follow his lead. Not nearly as gracefully and with shaky legs, you slide down on the wall beside him. He covers your hand with his other one and closes his eyes. At first you don’t understand what he is doing, but then you feel a surge of calmness wash over you, drowning the panic in soft waves. Even as you sense the sudden acceleration, you remain relaxed, eyes closed, Maul’s hand clutched tightly in yours. Your breathing slows, and when you feel the ship remaining at one speed, you finally open your eyes again.

“That was… good,” you manage to say. He hasn’t let go of your hand yet, despite not affecting your emotional state anymore - not with the force, that is. Remaining in his cross-legged position on the floor, he looks at you.

“How is your injury?”

For a moment you don’t know what he is talking about, until you remember the cut on your back. “My… Oh, yeah, it’s fine. Healing well.” You shrug. “I’ve had worse.”

Even the tattoos had hurt more when you got them, which was intended, you are sure. There were more modern and less painful ways to get tattooed at the time, but Magnus wanted you to feel every prick of the needle, so he chose the traditional way. It took two days to complete, and you had no appreciation whatsoever for what was probably a stunning piece of art on your body.

The thought of tattoos got you curious again, remembering what you were doing before you were rudely interrupted.

You bring his hand closer to your face to get a better look at the black lines on his skin. “What do your tattoos mean?”

He waits a moment before responding, as you would expect from such a collected, reserved individual as him.

“The meanings vary,” he finally replies, “some of them were given to me on Dathomir, some stem from my master.”

Sliding his loose sleeve up just a little, you examine the pattern. “What about these?”

“Dathomir.”

“And their meaning?”

A brief frown darts over his features, as if the question had brought up unhappy memories.

“I was taken before I was old enough to understand the… cultural significance.”

You move your eyes back to his arm, which seems to ease him slightly.

“However, I have done some reading.” His other hand moves up to point at one of the longer lines that runs up from his wrist to his lower bicep, which you can’t help but notice is immensely _muscular._

“Vertical lines stand for agility, speed and strength. Horizontal lines like this one” his hand moves back down to a line branching off right before his wrist, “signify resourcefulness and inner strength.”

You’re in awe of the beauty on his skin, as well as how calm and deep his voice is so close to you.

“There are others I believe hold personal meaning, like family, or the place I was born. But without anyone who knows the culture…” His voice trails off.

You suddenly feel his muscles tense up as if he only now realized how vulnerable he has made himself.

“What’s your plan once we arrive on Kessel?”

You grimace at the change of topic, then sigh. “We need to get to Magnus, he is the only one I know well enough to get close to, and he is also the only one who is not an immediate threat… physically.”

“You know where to find him?”

Nodding, you recall the red brick house that he had claimed as his own, despite the guild voicing numerous concerns about his safety; he refused to live in the quarters provided at their headquarters, similar to you. ‘ _What’s life without a place to live?’_ He asked dramatically, arguing that the quarters of the Concinnity could hardly be considered ‘ _livable_ ’, and he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Do we have any leverage against them?”

Now, _that_ is a good question. You have thought about this before, many times since you left, and the only thing you could come up with was _information_. The location of the headquarters, the members, the suppliers, the clients, the past involvement in political assassinations... There is a reason why they do not allow for members to leave.

“I can threaten to leak information about them. If I document what I know and deposit the data chip somewhere, they’ll have to listen to what I say.”

You know more than you originally thought you did, which you only now realize as you are writing down anything that the Concinnity might not want people to know about them. You don’t necessarily feel guilty about exposing the organization itself, it’s the members that you only reluctantly write down. They had never been your friends, but they were people you’ve known most of your life. It feels wrong to betray them like this, especially when they haven’t wronged you themselves: It’s the organization that you are working to bring down - unless, of course, everything goes according to plan and they call off the bounty hunters. Then, nobody will be harmed.

Maul is looking over your shoulder with curiosity when you get to the past jobs you know of. Senators, ambassadors, business people - some of the assassinations of your guild have been big news across the galaxy.

“This information should be enough to blackmail them, don’t you think?”

You nod with more conviction than you actually feel. What if it’s not? What if they capture you and… You shudder when old memories surface.

“Your fear of them seems out of proportion considering the dangers you face on a regular basis. What is it about them that scares you so much?”

“I…” He is still standing behind you, unable to see your face, which makes talking about the event much easier. “Three years back, one of the women in the guild, Lyanna, tried to leave. We were close in age, so I knew her about as well as anyone could know her.” You gulp. “She had taken a lover, and they ran off together. I remember the leaders being furious, sending a whole group out to find her. They didn’t pick me for the task, so I don’t know where she hid, but they brought her back, and locked her and the boy up.” Your breath hitches as the memory plays out before your eyes. “I heard her screams night after night, until one night, they stopped. The next morning they made the younger ones of us… look.”

You stop yourself there, unwilling to describe what it was you had seen. Instead, Maul hesitantly lifts his hand to lightly touch your temple, looking for himself what it is that has shaken you this badly.

After a second he pulls away his hand as if he had burned it on your skin, which tells you he has seen the image that still haunts you to this day, the almost unrecognizable body of this poor girl.

“This won’t happen to you.” He determines firmly. You bury your face in your hands, discarding the datapad on the table.

“You are not alone. I won’t… I won’t let them do this. It won’t get to this.”

Warmth spreads inside your chest at the unfamiliar feeling of someone looking out for you. Not being alone anymore. You still don’t lift your head, but you know he can feel you relaxing. As if to reassure you of your safety, he gently places a hand on your back, right next to where the Concinnity tattoo is still scarring your skin.

You two remain like this in silence for a few moments, but there are still things left to be taken care of.

*

A weird calamity surrounds you as you wait for the ramp to extend. You should be nervous, shaking in your boots, wanting to turn around and never look back, but instead, you feel safe standing next to Maul.

It’s not long until you reach the city, and you pull your hood even deeper into your already unrecognizable face; you’re wearing mask that only leaves your eyes barely uncovered. As expected, the streets are busy, and there are a worrying amount of bounty hunters roaming through the crowds. Are they all here for you?

You weave through the masses confidently, knowing exactly where you’re going. You haven’t been to Magnus’ house very often, but that doesn’t mean you don’t know where it’s located, especially since you know this city like the back of your hand. As you get closer to the building, you pull on Maul’s sleeve and slip into an alley that should lead around the house so you can scale the building without being seen.

“Do you want to climb through the viewport up there?” Maul points to the closest viewport about fifteen feet in the air.

“Yes, let’s try that.” both of your voices are hushed as you keep on looking around you nervously.

You are about to get out a rope, when Maul shoves you against the wall and immediately turns his back to you, hand at the handle of his lightsaber. You didn’t bring yours - at the moment it is a bigger risk to you than an asset.

“What’s the mat-” You don’t get to finish your hissed question when three figures jump off a nearby building and land right before you. They are not wearing hoods, and you instantly recognize their faces: Brent, Jiinan and Sovi. All of them except for Jiinan have been Concinnity members for longer than you have and all three of them are deadly.

Brent steps forward.

“Traitor!” He sneers. “You are deep in it now. You know what we do with people like you.”

Sovi pipes up. “You remember what happened to Lyanna, don’t you?” She smiles cruelly.

You lose all inhibitions you previously had, now absolutely ready to fight them.

“You don’t need to get caught up in this. What I do is none of your business, and as long as you don’t get in the way, we do not need to fight.” You try to keep a steady voice, your muscles flexing at your sides.

Yes, in a one on one fight, you would be able to win against them, and with Maul by your side, your odds are much better, but still, they are strong and there are dozens of bounty hunters nearby.

“What happened to you, hiding behind some guy? You have become weak, have you not?” Sovi’s scornful tone makes you shoot out from your protected position behind Maul, raising your chin high while unsheathing your sword.

‘ _They are going to attack any second now.’_ You think as clearly as you can, hoping Maul can hear your thoughts.

‘ _I’ll take the two on the left’_ is his response.

Sovi, who has always been the most aggressive one of the three, is the first one to attack. The second she moves toward you, Maul ignites his lightsaber, and attacks the two men.

The female is fast and vicious, but so are you. Groans from your left inform you that Maul is unsurprisingly not struggling with his two opponents, and soon Sovi is pulled away from you with the force. Blood is trickling down her skin from a deep gash on her arm, and the choking sounds coming from her are music to your ears - you never liked her in the first place.

All of a sudden, footsteps from your right make you whip your head around, too late to dodge the net that is shot at you. Electricity courses through your being as the net envelops you, throwing you to the ground. Stars appear in your vision, then everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!   
> this chapter was kinddd of a pain in the butt and i don't know why. i just don't... love it, but I hope you guys still enjoyed it. I am also currently planning the end of this story, since canon is going to catch up to us soon, my dudes. I could totally see myself doing a second book of this, one that takes place during the Clone wars, but I still need to do some proper research to do that.  
> In the meantime I'd like to try and write some one shots. I have one commander wolffe oneshot written out, working on one for the mandalorian and i have some other ideas too.  
> Another question: smut? yes or no? i didnt originally rate this 'mature' so I'd hate to make people uncomfortable. Let me know what you think!


	10. The Capture

_warnings: violence_

_______

“It’s truly disappointing.”

Your ears are ringing and your eyelids still feel too heavy to lift, but that exaggerated sigh can only belong to one person.

“Such a waste of potential, Y/N. And what for? You could have had a bright future with us, you were one of our best. But now…”

You flinch as a wave of electricity is sent through your body, starting at your wrist that are tied up over your head. Slowly, you force your eyes to open and assess the situation.

The room you’re in is only dimly lit, but you can still see Magnus’ face, and it _hurts_. It hurts to see the man you were so close to considering a father figure watch as you writhe in pain with such indifference on his face.

Somebody else is standing next to him, wearing a mask. Magnus gives them a signal with his right hand, and they approach you with loud footsteps, pulling out a long knife.

As soon as you attempt to move your lower body, somehow try to kick him, you feel thorns boring into the skin on your legs, followed by the sensation of warm blood running down on them.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t try that.” Magnus states dryly. “Though, it might be better than what we have planned for you, my dear.” He laughs briefly. “Who knows?”

You gasp as the masked person slashes at your side, creating a cut from just below your armpit to the small of your back, the pain sending tears to your eyes.

“Magnus,” your voice comes out raspy and broken. How long have you been unconscious? “If I die here,” a violent cough interrupts you, and as your muscles contract against your will, the thorns bore even deeper into your skin. “If I die here, everything I know will be shared with the public. I … I made sure of that.”

He hums quietly. “I believe that, you are not stupid, I know that. But you know what?”

You are getting a bad feeling in your stomach.

“It won’t make any difference to you. Because you will be dead, won’t you? You may have exposed part of this organization, but for what? Your short existence will be over.”

He takes to circling around you, hands clasped behind his back in a very business-like manner.

“You overestimate your importance, little Y/N.” _Little_. It’s worse than a stab wound to your chest, the surge of pain you are feeling. It’s what he used to address you as when you had just joined the guild, when you were only a lost little child, when he was one of the few people, if not the only person, who looked out for you. How could this be the same man?

“The information you hold is important, yes, but not critical to our existence. A leak is inconvenient, but not unaccounted for. You can’t even begin to understand the inner workings of our organization, _child_.”

It’s too hard to look into his face, so instead you choose to focus your blurry gaze on the wall behind him, the small gap between the door and the wall. You try to look through it, but the masked man is blocking your view.

You wince as more electricity sends your body into spasms, taking a few seconds to regain your breath before you ask the one question that’s been on your mind.

“What about… him?”

“You mean the Sith that is the reason you left?” He does not seem pleased anymore. “It won’t matter to you anymore.”

He didn’t say they caught him. How would they even do that? They probably just shocked him the same way they did you, and then abandoned him. Even the Concinnity wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill a Sith apprentice and risk the wrath of the Sith master - whoever that was.

“We do have one offer to make to you, and I advice you accept this sign of our graciousness. We offer you your life back, to work for us once again - in exchange for the location of the data chip that I am sure you used to document all your knowledge of us.”

They want you to go back to being one of their servants, doing the dirty work while they try to control every aspect of your life.

_‘We offer you your life back,’_

Was it really a life, though?

At first it seems you are left with no choice: Either, they kill you, or they force you back into their service - It is good bargaining on their part, considering you came here thinking you would hold the cards for once.

There is one flaw in their equation, however. They must have assumed that Maul would just leave you here, avoid the hassle of rescuing you, because it would be impractical. They think you are just a pawn in his quest, but you know better. You’ve seen the emotion behind those pools of yellow, you _know_ he will come to you, if only he knew where to find you.

If only _you_ knew.

Maybe if the masked guy would move just a tiny bit, you’d be able to catch a glimpse of what lies beyond the walls around you.

Just… provoke him.

Collecting your last bit of bravery, you tilt your head back, then throw it forward, spitting at the man’s feet.

Enraged, he lifts the knife and charges at you, moving from his spot in front of the door, allowing you to see - for the fraction of a second - the wooden floor in the hallway.

You bite your tongue to suppress a cry when he drags the knife up the entirety of your arm, followed by a slap in your face. You press your eyes closed and picture the wooden floor again, its reddish tone, the brick walls… and suddenly you know exactly where you are.

Faintly, you hear Magnus’ voice; “That’ll be enough for today, knock her out”

Panickedly, you try to focus on your thoughts, thinking one name.

_‘Maul’_

You don’t await a response, instead trying to conjure up the image of the cantina in your mind, praying to whatever force there was that Maul could see your thoughts.

A searing pain makes you cry out as the electricity passes through your body once again and you fall back into darkness.

*

You have lost track of time. Have a few hours passed, or has it been days? You are hungry, is all you know. Are they planning on feeding you, or will they kill you before it gets to that point?

The last time you saw Magnus, he was asking you to reconsider, to give them the location and accept their offer, which still brings a cynical feeling of joy to your heart; If they are giving you so many chances to still cooperate, they must truly be desperate, meaning your knowledge of the guild is far more significant than Magnus originally let on.

Right now, you are alone. They probably haven’t realized you are conscious again, because if they did, you are sure they would already be pestering you again, trying to change your mind through torture; a pathetic concept, designed for the weak-minded.

Your mind wanders to Maul. You haven’t heard his voice inside your head, but that doesn’t have to mean he hasn’t heard you. You have jumped to the conclusion that projecting one’s thoughts must be a harder feat than to read others’ minds: Maybe it is a desperate little string of hope, but it is all you have at the moment, and you don’t intend on letting go of it.

He _will_ come.

You repeat the thought in your head until it becomes a kind of mantra, something to distract you from the agonizing pain every single one of your nerve strings is emitting.

Your eyelids are drooping shut with exhaustion, the feeling in your hands long gone. There must be blood all over you, but the sparse lighting inside the room doesn’t allow for you to see. Maybe, you don’t even want to know.

The door opens with a creak and your head shoots up.

“This is your last chance.”

He doesn’t need to elaborate any further.

“You know my answer.” Your voice sounds horrible from the lack of hydration. You haven’t been given water in, well, at least ten hours, you guess, maybe a day, or longer.

“Then this has come to an end.” He turns his head to the hooded man that accompanies him. “Finish her.”

You can’t fight the tears that now well up in your eyes at the realization that this is how it’s ending - as a prisoner of the ones who have controlled your life for as long as you remember, waiting for a man to rescue you who has yet to show up. What a cruel, cruel fate. Is this truly what you deserve?

The hooded man steps up to you, hand at the handle of a knife. He is going to slit your throat, the Concinnity _signature_ move, if you want to call it that. They said it was the most elegant way to kill, the least _barbaric_. Ironic, given your treatment.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, your last one, waiting for him to do it, to get it over with.

A startled gasp followed by the hum of a lightsaber makes you open your eyes again. The man is slumped forward, blood spluttering from a wound through his torso, while Magnus is pushed against the wall by an invisible force that originates from the outstretched hand of…

_Maul._

The sudden sense of relief is mixed with a feeling of absolute adoration, such a pure and unmatched emotion that for a moment, you don’t feel the pain, or the cold.

He darts to you, cutting through the shackles that have been holding you up by your wrists, catching you as you tumble to the ground. He wastes no time in taking off the barbed wire that’s tied around your legs with one hand, while using the other to stabilize your weary body.

“You’re hurt,” he states, quietly, worriedly.

“Good... observation” Your words are slurred, your lips refusing to follow the orders your brain gives them.

“What are we doing about him?” He gestures to Magnus who is still pressed against the wall.

“We… we need him,” you mumble, “to call off the bounty hunters.”

“Ah, yes.” He gently moves you to sit with your back against the wall, before walking over to the wheezing man.

You can’t see exactly what he is doing, but his voice adopts a new, different tone, as he speaks to him. It’s almost hypnotic.

“You will call off the bounty hunters and everyone else you have sent out to get her. You will leave Y/N alone and never interact with, mention, or even _think about_ her again.”

All you hear in response is an agreeing array of words. It seems to satisfy the zabrak, and he is immediately back by your side, lifting you up in his arms, your head resting against his chest.

You must have passed out in his arms. When you wake up in a bed, a _real_ bed, you have absolutely no recollection of how you ended up there, all you know is you feel surprisingly… good?

The constant pain in your legs is gone, just like the injury on your side. The bruises the electro shocks must have caused are still there, but they seem faint - you must have been in a bacta tank, it is the only explanation for your condition.

Which brings you back to the real question: Where are you?

The room is small, and sparsely decorated. It looks like a room in a medical center; designed to be at least somewhat comforting, but still reminding you that you’re only here because something went _very_ wrong.

The door flies open and Maul enters, though at first you can hardly tell it’s him - he is wearing a long coat, and his hood is pulled down so far, anyone unfamiliar with him would not be able to make out his face.

His voice is quiet when he speaks up, still a few feet away from your bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Did you... did you bring me here?” The question is stupid, of course he did, but your mind is still in a state of confusion.

“Yes. Your injuries… they were to severe to be treated on the ship.”

“Where are we?” Your briefly relaxed state of mind is replaced by worry.

“Still on Kessel.” He lifts his hand when he sees your eyes widen. “Do not worry. You are safe.”

His eyes roam over your form before he continues. “Do you feel strong enough to leave yet?”

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed to get up, only now noticing you are no longer in your own attire, but in a loose white shirt and white shorts. A medic must have taken your clothes off to treat your wounds.

You don’t miss the way Maul’s eyes linger on the freshly exposed skin of your legs for a little longer than the rest of your body, a flush of red creeping onto your face.

You stand up, cautiously moving your arms and legs, cracking your neck and finally stretching your arms above your head.

“I feel good. Let me change into my clothes before we leave though.”

You walk over to a chair in the corner where you spotted your clothes, neatly folded up into a small stack.

You turn around, to see that Maul is still standing in the room.

“Would you mind, uh” You awkwardly point to the door, red making its way on your face again. “I mean you don’t have to-”

“Oh. Yes. Of course.” He is lucky. With his skin tone, it’s impossible to tell if he is blushing or not.

The door shuts behind him and you quickly change out of the hospital attire, inspecting the almost entirely healed wounds. Bacta is truly a magnificent invention.

You open the door again and see Maul slouched against the wall. He looks unusually tired, you have never seen him in a state like this.

“Are _you_ okay?”

He seems surprised at the question, making you wonder if that is a question he isn’t asked very often.

Hesitantly, he answers. “Yes. Let’s just leave.”

He is quiet on the way back to the ship, more so than he usually is. Tension hangs in the air, though you can’t quite identify its source.

“Tell me.” You order as you lean against the wall of the cockpit while the ship takes off. “You are unwell. What’s the matter?” Cautiously, you tug at his hood to pull it down from his head in an attempt to get a better look at his face.

He closes his eyes before muttering: “Just… lack sleep”

Oh. That makes sense. He probably didn’t sleep while you were captured, and then you were in the medical center-

“Then go, I can watch over this for a while.”

He focuses his gaze back on you, frowning. “You dislike flying.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s on autopilot anyways.”

He doesn’t seem completely satisfied, but eventually gives in with a quiet sigh, getting up from the pilot’s seat and moving past you to the lift, his steps lacking the determination and confidence they usually hold.

The way your heart clenches slightly is a reminder of how much you care. Maybe your emotions for him lie deeper than you thought - more than curiosity, more than just attraction.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage as your mind wanders.

Are you _in love_ with the zabrak?

*

Space is… calm. The silence is accompanied only by the occasional beeping sounds from the control panel and the soft hum of the engine. It gives you the opportunity to finally think. Reflect. Plan.

What do you want from the future?

You don’t really know. You’ve never had the option of deciding on much of your life before, so it seems like the world suddenly holds endless possibilities for you. Well, technically, you still don’t really have that many choices: Despite his … _kindness,_ and whatever it is that goes beyond that, the original foundation your partnership is built on is you not being able to reveal their identities by either working with them or … dieing.

You would like to say you mind. You would like to feel like a victim of yet another controlling figure in your life, but if you’re being honest, you _like_ this.

So what do you really want?

All you can think of is to keep things the way they are right now. Side by side with Maul, doing jobs for his master, keeping up a _relationship_ between the two of you - if he wants, that is. You don’t really know about the nature of his feelings, you realize. And his master too: Would he even allow such a thing? You know the Jedi don’t allow attachments, but since the Sith are basically the opposite of what the Jedi stand for, maybe…

You decide to head downstairs, telling yourself it’s to go to the refresher, but knowing deep down that you are just trying to catch a glimpse of the sleeping zabrak.

The doors open with the familiar hiss. Immediately, you stare to your right, where you know Maul’s sleeping compartment is, and your heart skips a beat.

The zabrak looks so utterly at peace, his head rolled to the side, lips parted and one hand on his stomach, the other dangling over the edge of the bed frame. You hold your breath as you listen to him slowly inhale and exhale, breathe in, breathe out.

An unfamiliar tingling sensation spreads through your insides, and you want nothing more than to gently caress his beautifully adorned face, maybe trace the lines that span across it, follow the slight curve of his horns…

You force yourself to snap out of it and rush to the refresher, careful to not make any noise to disturb his sleep as you shut the door. It would be downright shameful to disrupt this rare display of peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that updates are coming out kinda slow, but I’m always trying to have at least the next one or two chapters written out before posting. I am officially on break now, which means I have a little more time on my hands.  
> Hope you guys enjoyed :)


	11. The Sith

Maul isn’t asleep for long.

You have been in the cockpit for around two or three hours now, when he returns.

“Do you want your seat back?” You ask lightheartedly, getting up to allow him to sit in his space again. He doesn’t reply, just sitting down and looking over the display on the control panel.

“What are we going to do on Coruscant?” The question has been in the back of your mind since you saw the coordinates he had typed in.

“We are going to meet with my master.”

“Your master, the Sith lord, resides on Coruscant? Where both the Jedi and the galactic Republic are situated?” Disbelief paints your expression.

“Yes. He is skilled at covering up his true identity.”

You feel nervous at the prospect of seeing the master of the Sith, and Maul can feel it.

“You do not need to worry. I will… I will assure him of your value.”

He will. But _why_? What is it that he feels for you?

“I don’t know.” He whispers, looking down. When he looks back up, there is frustration on his face. “I have this _desire_ inside me all of a sudden, I feel things I have never experienced before, aspects of the force I have not felt before,” He is rising from his chair now, standing right before you, voice dropping to a mumble. “And the emotions I sense in you only amplify whatever this is. I don’t understand it and it is...” He presses his eyes shut, one arm flying up to the wall next to you, “It is driving me insane.” His eyes open once again, boring into yours with such an intensity, goosebumps run down your spine. _Hunger_ is in his eyes, and you try to calm your thoughts, lest he can feel how ridiculous the effect he has on you is.

What you can’t calm, however, is the pressing wish, the _need_ to connect with him again, to give in to his hunger. You know he can feel it stirring in you, feel your eyes pulling him closer.

In one swift motion, he crashes his lips into yours, his body pressing yours into the wall, hands moving from caging you between them to one tangling in your hair and the other grabbing on to your waist, pushing you even further into the cold wall while his lips move against yours rhythmically.

You feel every muscle in his torso, and you can sense his hand trailing up from your waist, higher until his thumb is grazing the clothed skin just below the curve of your breast, your mouth unintentionally opening further and granting him better access to explore it with his tongue.

You feel utterly engulfed by the heat that is him, thinking you could melt right then and there, if it weren’t for his tight hold on you. You never thought you could _enjoy_ being held in place like this, thinking that you should feel trapped between him and the wall, but truth is, it is stirring you _just right._ No responsibility, no need for judgement, just following his lead.

A device on the controls starts emitting a beeping, making him pull away just slightly, turning his head annoyedly.

Taking one step backwards, he drops himself into the seat, barely looking away from you as he flicks a switch that stops the beeping noise. The next thing you know is something is tugging at your belt, moving you forward with a forceful pull and sending you stumbling right onto his lap, chests pressed against each other, your hand landing on his shoulder for support. Breathing heavily, you find yourself getting lost in his eyes once more, admiring the way they seem to be glowing even brighter than the stars in the viewport behind him.

He raises a finger to your face, pushing aside a strand of hair that’s escaped from your tied back hair.

His voice is quiet, and soft, when he finally opens his mouth again.

“Your eyes… It’s like they capture the starlight and trap it inside them.”

You widen them in surprise, before letting out a breathy laugh, hesitant at first, then allowing a shy smile to take over your face, averting your gaze.

When was the last time you actually laughed?

“That’s beautifully violent.” you murmur, burying your face in the crook of his neck, unable to properly take the compliment.

You feel good. Safe, right here, on his lap, listening to his steady pulse next to your ear, his arms wrapped around your waist.

The steady hum of the ship creates a comfortable silence and his shoulders relax under the touch of your fingertips. You feel like you could stay like this forever.

“Let me know when I’m getting too heavy,” you mumble against his skin.

“Never.”

“Wow, okay, big guy” without meaning to, you break out into a wide grin. As if he could feel it, Maul brings a hand up to your face and pushes you back slightly, allowing him to look at you.

Your grin fades as you try to make sense of his unreadable expression. He looks so focused on you.

Tilting your head upward with his thumb and index finger, he pulls you in for another kiss, tenderly.

You break away when a new thought crosses your mind, making you frown.

“Your master- Will he allow this?”

Your heart aches at the thought of losing this, whatever you have - you are unable to recall a time in your life where you’ve had such a steady source of comfort, and happiness.

“As long as you do not make me feel… pulled to the light side of the force, I believe he will not be opposed to the idea.” He pauses. “ ‘ Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion I gain strength’. It’s part of the Sith code.”

“What’s the rest?”

He closes his eyes and recites, like a mantra he has learned all his life:

“Through strength, I gain power.

Through power I gain victory.

Through victory my chains are broken.

The Force shall free me.”

“It is very fitting,” you mumble. “Given your history.”

“Yes… the chains.”

You are not force-sensitive by any means, yet you feel like the Sith code speaks to you, in some way at least. Power, victory, those have always been the ways you lived - the base of your freedom.

“So what _is_ your master’s vision for the future?” You can’t help but wonder how an order of two would ever be able to gain control over the galaxy, how they could hold themselves up against a Jedi order with thousands of knights.

“My master, he goes by the name Darth Sidious, will let you in on his goals, or what he deems relevant to you.” He shoots you an almost apologetic look, as if trying to explain the secrecy without words. “He upholds a public persona, and keeps influential contacts. That is what I can tell you, for now.”

“It’s okay,” you try to reassure him, noticing how guilty he looks at keeping information from you. “I get it.”

You are still seated on his lap, legs on each side of his middle. “You know, if you plan on keeping me around, getting a second seat in the cockpit might be a good idea.”

He lets out the tiniest of chuckles, a sound that goes straight to your heart. “I don’t see a problem with the way things are.” He lazily rests one hand on top of your thigh, fingers toying with the strap secured around it. “But if you insist, I suppose I can see what I can do once we get some time to spare.”

“Thank you.”

He seems to understand that you're not just referring to the chair, but to everything he has done for you so far. You decide to voice a suspicion you’ve had for some time now..

“Your master didn’t plan on keeping me alive, did he?”

Maul’s fingers on your thigh stop moving.

“No, he didn’t.”

“So why did you convince him to give me a choice? We hardly even knew each other.”

You don’t doubt his feelings now, feeling like he is sharing a piece of his soul with you, but then? You couldn’t have been much more than a contract killer to him.

“I… don’t know.” He exhales, gently touching your cheekbone while staring at the floor deep in thought. “When I looked into your eyes for the first time, and I felt your energy, I felt something. So when my master told me to kill you… I suggested taking you in instead.”

Overwhelmed with a weird feeling of gratitude, and something else, you remain silent, chewing on your bottom lip, trying to make sense of your emotions.

You are reminded of the feeling you used to get when your mother would cradle your head and hum you to sleep.

You feel loved.

It’s impossible for you to look at him now, your mind is buzzing with one thought tripping over the other, and your lip trembling at the foreign yet familiar sensation.

“Your thoughts, my love,” he whispers, taking your hands into his. You realize he must be able to very clearly sense your emotions at this moment, but you can’t suppress the way your throat tightens, and it is only when you feel tears well up in your eyes that you understand that for the first time since you were a child, you miss your mother. Not the woman you met every other year, each time a little thinner, paler, more beaten up - you miss the woman from the few distant memories you still have, the little games she used to play with you to distract you from the violence happening all around you, the songs she used to sing to you, even though you can’t remember the lyrics anymore; Most likely they weren’t even in your native language - your mother had been brought to Kessel from another planet. Which one was it? You can’t recall.

A hot tear escapes your eye before you can stop it and you start blinking profusely while wiping it away.

“Wow” you force a lighter tone than you actually feel. “This hasn’t happened in… a long time, I didn’t want to-” He brings a finger to your lips to stop your rambling.

“You need to embrace the pain. You are suppressing it, and it will tear you apart eventually if you do not start accepting it as a part of you soon.”

It is remarkable how he can be so young yet so wise. Because he _is_ young, right? He hasn’t really specified his age, but you doubt he is much older than you. Unless, of course, zabraks age much differently from humans, then maybe…

He shakes his head to hide his amusement. “I am twenty-one, or twenty-two years, I think.”

Staring at his facial features, you can clearly see it now - his eyes are still rounded, once he isn’t scowling or frowning, and there is the light of an active spirit glowing behind them. You feel the irrational urge to protect him, from the Jedi, from his master, from the world, despite knowing that he himself is very capable, and also the fact that you are even younger than him. But still, at this moment you want nothing more than to shield him from all the bad things that could be coming his way.

*

Through the viewport you can see Coruscant’s glowing lights - you have never been there, but you’ve heard stories of the planet.

You sit up straight and watch as you start the landing process. Maul flies purposefully, making you think he’s been to this location multiple times. The ship parks in an underground hangar, and you follow as he moves down the ramp and enters an elevator. Your stomach is queasy; you don’t know what to expect of the man he calls his master, especially not when he specifically asked Maul to bring you along.

“Do what I do, and follow his orders. Do not fight his will.” He instructs you calmly, though you get the feeling that he himself is nervous.

The elevator shoots up at an unsettlingly high speed and suddenly you are above the ground, the city spreading out further and further below you, yet not ending when you look up. It is so bright and alive, even though it is nighttime; you can’t help but open your mouth in awe.

You feel like you should despise this planet and its inhabitants that are nothing but arrogant, spoiled and self-centered, but right now you understand why people would want to live here. From afar you can see the building of the galactic senate, and even further away the Jedi temple, which makes your breath catch in your throat. It is a not so friendly reminder of where you are, and why you are here.

The elevator slows to a halt and the doors open to what looks like an abandoned office floor. The only light comes from an open door to your left, and you follow Maul when he confidently makes his way there.

“Apprentice.” The voice stems from the hooded man you’ve already seen as a hologram, except now he is real, and much more menacing standing at the end of the room, facing the glass door with his back turned to the two of you.

“Master.” Maul gets on one knee and you quickly follow his example. When you look back up, the man has turned around.

“Rise.”

Back on your feet, you anxiously look back and forth between Maul and his master. Sidious, he said was his name.

“I see you have done as I said and brought the woman.” His voice gives no indication as to whether he is pleased with your presence, or if he would rather end your existence once and for all. Either one seems likely enough to you, and just standing there, twiddling your fingers behind your back, makes your survival instinct scream inside you, telling you to get away from this man, that this creature is bad news.

“Come closer, girl.” The usage of the word makes you feel small and unimportant, and you hate it, but you nervously follow his order and take two, three steps closer to him.

Apparently, you don’t get close enough, because all of a sudden you are pulled forward by the force grabbing you around the neck, until you are just barely a foot away from the Sith. He wastes no time and roughly pushes his pale thumb and index finger against your temple. You feel as though your head is being split in half at the harsh intrusion to your thoughts - no, not just your thoughts: Your feelings, your memories, deep rooted secrets, all flashing before your eyes, being searched and discarded as if they had no value at all. Everything that you are, all that makes you _you_ being dismissed by the dark lord. You see images of skinny women in scraps whose names you‘ve long forgotten, who helped you meet your Mom when you were a little girl, just having started training to become a killer. You see splutters of blood on the grey floor of the practice room that you spent so, so many hours in. Different memories of a stab wound to your gut make you wince in pain, though you can‘t hear the sound - you are absorbed in your own memory, the sensation of the metal blade boring into your stomach, all the blood, but _there,_ \- something else, a loth cat you found on the street and befriended, but its flat face is quickly replaced by the eyes of Galenos Tallav, staring into your soul while he is dieing, a far more recent memory, but still one you pushed back, repressed, the memory of the man who was supposed to be your _brother_. The picture blurs and now you‘re staring into somebody else‘s eyes, eyes you would recognize anywhere, pools of yellow-gold, and the strong hold onto you, your heart beating fast, _love._ You know the Sith lord can see it, your vulnerability, but you don‘t want him to, you are done, he has seen everything there is to see, it is _enough-_

Faintly, you hear the croaking voice cackling.

With a snap you are pulled back into the present, leaving the inside of your mind, the hooded man already back across the room as if the intrusion to your mind was nothing to him. It did, however, leave an impact on you; a pulsating pain is running through your head and your muscles feel like they’ll give in any moment now. You stagger slightly to the right, but catch yourself before falling to the ground, leaving you with at least the tiniest scrap of dignity. From the corner of your eye you see Maul jerk, as if instinctively trying to help you, but holding himself back in the presence of his master, who turns back around to direct his words at you. “This devotion you hold to my apprentice is pathetic, but it ensures your loyalty. You shall continue to serve our cause, girl.”

It is hard to feel the relief appropriate when the words he is using are so derogatory, but in your head, you still know that this is good. Of all the outcomes of this meeting, this is the best one, and you should feel grateful for that.

“Apprentice, follow me outside.”

A gust of wind fills the room when he abruptly opens the door to the balcony, but it is gone within seconds, when both men have left the room and the door slams shut again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teehee, no smut... yet! We're getting there :) Its's actually all written out, but I still need to finish writing the chapter(s) leading up to it.  
> Palpatine is not being such a pal, but that's not new... Idk I always got the feeling he is a sexist, he just gives off Big Old Man Misogynist Vibes,,  
> Hope you enjoyed!


	12. The Desert

“I know what you’re thinking, but my master was highly pleased with our work on Cato Neimoidia. And now that Gunray is Viceroy, we can finish one more job for them, to ensure their future cooperation.”

“But two Jedi, not to mention her own guards? It just seems like an awfully risky job.”

“They won’t be expecting me. I’ll catch them off-guard.”

“Wait a minute.” You straighten your posture that was previously slouched over, leaning on the pilot seat’s backrest. “What do you mean ‘expecting _you_ ’? We’re gonna take them on together, are we not?”

Maul heaves a sigh and turns to you.

“You said it yourself: Force users don’t fight fair - It would be dangerous for you.”

Your jaw drops.

“So you’re telling me I should stay behind and _watch_ as you face them? Like some kind of helpless damsel?”

“I know you’re far from helpless. But they have an unfair advantage.” He pauses. “Please.”

You didn’t expect him to sound so pleading, so sincere, and the anger in you dies down, leaving room for rationality: He isn’t entirely wrong, and the fact that he obviously worries about you induces a fuzzy feeling in you.

Your scowl turns into a grimace. “I have one condition.”

He looks at you expectantly.

“You have to keep helping me practice with the lightsaber. I want to be able to at least defend myself. Just in case.”

His face relaxes again, obviously not minding the request one bit.

“We’ll have time on Tatooine for that.”

 _Tatooine._ You’ve been on the outer rim planet only once, but one time is one time too many if you are asked.

Wearing heavy equipment makes one try to stray far from desert planets. The kriffing sand makes you slow, gets into your boots and blasters, makes your knives go dull, and it is still found inside your pockets for weeks after.

Needless to say, you are not thrilled to be flying to Tatooine.

“How much time _do_ we have?” You hope it’s not too much. The sooner you get off that rock again, the better.

“A day or two, most likely. Depending on how quickly we’ll be able to locate them.”

You exhale audibly, praying you’ll make quick work of the two Jedi.

“So we- You kill the Jedi. Then what?”

You are slightly displeased still, having been left out of the planning, getting all information on a ‘need to know’ basis.

“We take the Queen of Naboo and bring her to Theed. The Trade Federation wants her to sign a treaty there.”

“Wonderful. Politics,” you mumble, then proceed to rub your temples. “Let me know when we arrive, I’m going to lay down for a while.” The prodding headache from the intrusion to your mind still hasn’t faded and serves as a constant reminder that your thoughts and memories don’t belong to you alone anymore. Weird; Before meeting Darth Sidious, you never really felt that way - like your thoughts would be used against you. Not even in the beginning, before you … got _closer_ to Maul. But now, every idea, every little daydream (especially the ones surrounding a certain zabrak and his athletic body) is accompanied with a surge of embarrassment when you picture the dark lord of the sith going through your mind again.

You can only hope he won’t deem it necessary all too soon, if at all.

Maul shoots you a slightly concerned look.

“I wish he hadn’t invaded your mind like that.” He admits after a pause.

“So do I… ” Is all you say in response, scrunching up your nose. “So do I.”

You have hardly even stepped out of the ship and you already want to turn around and go back.

The suns are searing hot and the day hasn‘t even set completely yet, there is not even the tiniest breeze and nothing but desert safe for what looks to be a settlement in the distance, a mere dot on the horizon. You are still standing on the ramp and _already_ feel sand settling in the wrinkles of your layered clothing.

“I despise this,” you mumble, “so, so much.”

Your companion swooshes past you, two probes levitating ominously behind him. He presses a few buttons on his wrist panel and they soar off into the distance.

“With the help of those we should be able to locate them soon. Then we can leave this place.“

“ _Marvellous._ I think I‘ll just stay on the ship for as long as it‘s still cool inside.“

He shoots you a glance. ”You know, if you want to practice, this is as cool as it‘s going to get today.”

You groan inwardly, knowing that he is right, but also not feeling like stepping out into the desert at all.

”Probably,” you agree unwillingly. ”Give me a second and I’ll be ready.”

You disappear into the ship, gathering your lightsaber (you’ve taken to referring to it as ”yours” in your thoughts, despite the fact that it’s stolen from somebody who, too, stole it). In wise anticipation you take off your jacket, already knowing you‘re going to get a heat stroke if you wear anything over your tanktop. It’s bad enough that you don’t own any shorts, only heavy utility pants that - while much more practical and protective - get very, very hot.

It’s undeniable that your lightsaber combat skills have improved considerably. You are starting to feel confident enough to incorporate some of the moves you learned with a sword in your fighting style, and you now have an accurate enough sense of the lightsaber to know how you can move and jump without letting the blade touch you. This changes up your technique vastly, going from awkward, shaky strikes to much more controlled, agile movements. Are you any match for Maul? No. Will you ever be? Probably not (and you can’t deny the fact that you feel frustrated that after training your whole life, there is a level you will never get to).

But will you be able to give any assailant hell?

You are certain of it.

It doesn’t take long, however, for you to become agitated with the sand that keeps on giving in under your steps, slows you down and piles up inside your boots, as well as the heat that is making beads of sweat appear on your forehead.

Maul is executing a series of strikes that, despite you blocking them, are forceful enough for you to have to take a few steps back - and this is where the uneven ground becomes a real problem: Unaware of the deepening behind you, you yelp and stumble backwards, thankfully having the sense to deactivate your lightsaber before you fall once and for all.

As soon as your body lands in the sand, it is everywhere. In your eyes, between your toes, in your hair, under your shirt. You lie still for a moment, trying to calm the frustration, but to no avail. While pushing yourself off the ground with little grace, you are angrily shaking the hem of your top in an attempt to feel less restricted, less hot, and most of all less _sandy_. You kick at the sand, once, twice, as if every grain has personally done you wrong. A curse in your native language escapes your lips while you are quickly undoing your braid, trying to shake at least some of the _forsaken_ substance out, but knowing well that you are still going to find it after multiple showers.

“I hate this!”

You kick your boots off and toss them somewhere close to the ramp. There is this pressing desire to destroy something pulsing through your veins - you _need_ to take your frustration out on something.

“Come at me again.” Maul instructs you calmly upon witnessing your aggravation.

Now everything is boiling up, not only your hatred for desert planets but also your frustration at having to work under a ‘master’ again - feeling like somebody is always trying to control you. You don’t mind working with Maul, at all, but you do mind the fact that this Sidious is basically holding your life in his hands like a little bird; alive only because he chooses to let you live, still always ready to be crushed between his fingers. If you wanted to, you’re sure Maul would let you leave, but Sidious wouldn’t.

You allow yourself to let out your anger through jumps and hits and twirls, and the satisfying sound of sabers clashing is like music to your ears. The handle starts to feel like it’s attached to your body, an extension of your arm, the way it fits snugly in your hand and moves to your will. All inhibition out of fear of hurting yourself with the weapon fades away, and with it your ability to pace yourself - another jump, another backhand slash, your lightsabers colliding, and your energy is drained. It doesn’t take Maul much more effort to push you away.

You retract the blade in defeat, your legs wobbly with exhaustion, both physically and mentally.

Collapsing onto your knees, you exhale shakily.

“You have improved,” he remarks, stretching out his hand to help you back to your feet. “You learn fast.”

Still trying to catch your breath, you only manage to nod in appreciation of his praise. How is he so unaffected by both the heat and the physical exertion, while you are reaching the limits of your body?

A grain of sand that has snuck into your eye causes you to start blinking rapidly, rubbing your eye in an attempt to get it out. But your hands, too, are covered in sand.

“I really need a shower now.”

The water does wonders in terms of instant anger and stress relief. It’s tempting to just stay in the refresher, where the temperature is controlled and where not everything is immediately covered in a layer of dust and sand.

But you can’t stay forever, so with a heavy sigh and in fresh, clean clothes, you open the door and reenter the ready room, surprised to find that the ramp is closed.

“Trying to keep the heat out.”

Maul’s voice from your left startles you. He is standing in the doorway that leads to the small storage space, still in the black robes he wore outside and looking like he himself is coated in a thin layer of dust.

“Oh. That’s good, that’s …” _really considerate_ , when you think about it: He didn’t seem to mind the heat, and seeing as he was born on Dathomir, that makes sense too - but he knows _you_ mind the temperatures. You gulp. “... nice,” you finish your sentence.

You notice water dripping from the ends of your hair, creating a damp spot on your shirt.

“Blast,” you mumble, rushing to your bag to find something to tie your hair up with.

You don’t even notice Maul is standing behind you until you lower your arms again, having thrown your hair in a lazy updo. Looking up over your shoulder, you give him a questioning look after seeing his concentrated gaze.

He catches a strand of hair that you missed between his fingers, holding it up to look at it intently.

“Your hair,” he mumbles, slowly stroking his thumb over it to feel the texture. “It’s soft.”

You never considered that the sensation could be new for him, but looking back, his hands did always end up buried in your hair whenever the two of you… got distracted. Heat rushes to your cheeks at his obvious fascination when his fingers graze the skin on your neck, but your flusteredness quickly subsides when you realize that he is still covered in dust.

You jump away from him, pointing your finger in a mock-threatening way.

“I just got cleaned up, so don’t even think about touching me.”

He flinches for the fraction of a second, then looks at you with arms crossed and mischief glinting in his eyes.

“You never seemed to mind me touching you before.”

_Oh, you bastard._

You scowl.

“Well, I do now. There’s dust and sand all over you, and I _just_ managed to scrub it all off of me.”

“If you say so,” Maul shakes his head in amusement, then proceeds to the refresher.

With the water running again, you realize you have some free time.

“What to do, what to do…” you mumble as your eyes scan the room for a distraction.

Your gaze gets caught on an empty wooden crate that is standing in a corner innocently.

It’s been a while since you’ve done some target practice (For safety reasons you’ve decided it would be smarter not to throw knives in the confines of a moving spaceship), and that crate would make an excellent target.

Quickly you carve a small ‘X’ into the wood to replace the bull’s eye, then you place your makeshift target on a shelf to get it to a proper height.

Target practice has always been one of your favorite kinds of training. Probably, because you are good at it, and it doesn’t involve people, as opposed to sparring.

The first three throws are good and land in the center, right where you want them. For the next round, you decide to change things up and spin before throwing, giving yourself less time to aim but more momentum.

Quickly, you find yourself getting lost in the monotone practice, tunnel vision on your target the only thing that occupies your thoughts - it’s almost meditative

Time passes faster than you expect it to, and _midthrow_ , you catch sight of Maul leaving the refresher.

Without a shirt on.

You miss the ‘X’ by a couple of inches, the blade boring itself into the very corner of the crate; the furthest you have missed it today. An annoyed sound leaves your mouth, though you can’t fully bring yourself to be frustrated with it when the reason for your miss is _so well built_.

You desperately try not to stare at him, though it certainly isn’t easy.

The final knife you throw hits the target dead-center again, and you mentally declare your practice session over, only now allowing yourself to look at him.

Maker, he’s attractive.

The black inkings on his crimson skin only seem to enhance the lines of muscles spanning across his torso and with the way his pants are sitting so low on his hips-

 _‘Don’t you dare read my mind,’_ The thought is loud and insistent in your head - an attempt to protect your pride, because you would probably die of embarrassment if he knew you really found him this appealing.

To be fair, it’s been a while since you had some… alone time. You are hesitant about _doing_ anything in the shower, because you are almost certain he’d be able to tell through your heightened emotions. But it _is_ getting to you.

And his upper body being on display like that is not helping.

“Now that I am _clean_ enough for you,” He takes slow, self-assured steps toward you, until he is so close that you are forced to look up to face him, his voice dropping to a rumble. “Maybe you’ll finally let me ... ”

He doesn’t finish what he is saying with words, instead meeting you halfway when you stand up on your tiptoes, lips melting together. Your hands roam over his bare torso, feeling old scars, but also raw power in the hard muscles that contract and relax under your touch.

Suddenly, he freezes.

“What’s wrong?” You breathe against his lips, sensing his abrupt unease.

“There are people nearby,” he pulls away with a frown, summoning his lightsaber and a coat with the force. “Stay here, I’ll go check the area and keep them away.”

You snatch a dagger from under your bed and place it on your belt, just in case someone gets close to the ship, while he opens the ramp and rushes off to the right, where you assume he can sense lifeforms closing in. You follow him down the ramp and stay just a few feet away from the ship, watching him cross a dune and disappear.

It is quiet for a few minutes, whoever it was Maul felt must be far away enough to be out of your earshot.

A sudden clang from the front of the ship alarms you and you whip around, but see nobody. Cautiously, you crouch down and sneak around the ship, watching for an attacker, but the place where the sound originated is abandoned. Footprints in the sand trail the other way around the ship, meaning whoever is here could very well be…

 _behind you_.

You catch the assailant’s hand just before it can wrap itself around your neck, twisting the wrist and forcefully throwing the creature to the ground, immediately recognizing the ghastly appearance of a Tusken Raider.

The sand person gets up before you can finish him and swings his spear your way, wildly, primitively. It’s easy to evade his attacks, and before the savage knows what’s happening, you’ve slit his throat.

The short lived fight leaves you slightly out of breath and on alert, your heart thumping fast in anticipation of another attack, but your gut tells you that this was the only danger lurking here.

“Ugh.”

You nudge the grotesque body with your foot, testing to feel its weight. The decision that the corpse is much too heavy for you to move without considerable effort is made fast, so you elect to leave it where it is and wait until Maul returns.

If it was really only the sand people, then you are not overly worried for his safety. They are brutal savages, yes, but they are not much of a threat for somebody like Maul (or you, for that matter).

As expected, Maul’s return is fast.

“Sand people,” he utters.

“I know,” you say, gesturing to the leg that sticks out from around the corner. “I’ve had the pleasure already.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“I did not feel the presence of one so close. I must be more vigilant in the future.”

It is evident that he blames himself for leaving you behind with an imminent threat, so you try to ease his mind.

“It was more annoying than anything else. I have faced bigger challenges than a Tusken Raider, believe me. Now, would you do me a favor and help me get rid of the body?”

He nods absentmindedly and lifts one hand, using the force to raise the body into the air while at the same time creating a hole in the ground, where the body lands with an unceremonious thud.

 _‘Convenient,’_ you think to yourself, remembering all the times you’ve had to drag and lift bodies that by far exceeded your own body mass.

It’s around noon right now, and the sun is beating down on you two mercilessly. You are about to go back inside the ship, when a quiet whirring catches your attention.

“The probe!”

It flies straight to Maul, where it stops and starts a series of beeps that you assume are its way of transmitting information.

“We have the location of the Jedi,” Maul declares finally with a certain gravity to his voice. “Wait here. Please.”

You sigh. “You be careful, yes?”

“I don’t need to be careful,” He lifts his chain proudly, “It’s them who should be afraid.”

“I don’t doubt that. Just… come back fast, won’t you?” You can’t mask the fact that you feel hesitant to let him go on his own - that you feel worried about his safety.

“I will.” He sounds softer now, seeing your concern for him. “Until then,” he pulls you closer and presses a kiss to your forehead.

Then he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader doesn’t like sand. It's coarse, and rough, and irritating... and it gets everywhere.
> 
> I’m a sucker for throwing knives ever since I played Assassin’s creed syndicate (can you tell?). The stealth? The coolness? superb. Mwah.
> 
> This time less of a wait, though I can’t promise the same thing for the next chapter. I’m going to try to post it in less than one week, but you know how things get :,) As always, thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3


	13. The Invasion of Naboo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex, little bit of biting otherwise no real kinks and I tried to refrain from using overly vulgar language
> 
> Disclaimer: please remember that this is fiction, and that you should always use protection when having sex and that you also probably shouldn’t bite unless you asked your partner beforehand idk man you get the idea
> 
> ALSO: long chapter ahead, I’m not sorry

Nervously, you pace back and forth in front of the spaceship. Maul has been gone for well over fifteen minutes now, which in and by itself would be no cause for worry - the starship you’ve seen take off from his direction, however, is to be taken as a bad sign.

Something went wrong.

You can’t even get yourself to be annoyed by the heat, all that’s on your mind is Maul’s absence. What if he got injured? What if he is hurt and unable to get back to you, bleeding out somewhere in the desert? Or if the Jedi took him with them? What if, and you shudder at the thought, just now was the last time you saw him?

You flop down onto the ramp, hugging your knees while your fingers start to fiddle with a knife, spinning it - it’s an anxious habit that you’ve had for years, but ever since you were in Maul’s company you dropped it.

But now that he is gone, the urge to do it is right back, proving to you what you always suspected; Your biggest fear is of being alone.

You slowly sway back and forth, still holding on to your own legs tightly, anchoring yourself in the present.

_‘He’ll come back’_

You repeat it in your head as if saying it would make it true, as if your sheer willpower would be enough to bring him to you right now.

A quickly approaching sound makes your head snap up from where it was buried behind your knees. There, on his speeder, is Maul. Unscathed.

The breath you release feels heavier than any boulder could ever be.

“You’re alive.” You rasp as he steps off the vehicle.

“They got away.” He is fuming, you can tell that in his mind, he is replaying everything that happened, where he went wrong.

“I thought they hurt you. I saw the ship take off and -”

“I wasn’t good enough,” He is shaking his head, face twisted in pain. “They escaped because I _failed_!”

“You’re alive,” You repeat, insistently, though you know it offers little comfort to him. “You’ll get another chance.”

“This was supposed to be my chance. I was meant to take them out _today_ , but I was too weak, I-”

“Cut it out!” You snap. It would be borderline comical how offended he looks, if it weren’t for the seriousness of the situation. “You’re single handedly the best, most dangerous fighter I’ve ever encountered. They got away because they got _lucky_ and there is no point in trying to blame yourself, because it won’t change a thing. Next time, things will go differently.” While you were talking you walked up to him, so that now, you’re close enough to rest a hand against his cheek.

His eyes are wide with astonishment, then they flutter shut as he takes a deep breath, leaning into the touch.

“They won’t escape next time,” he mumbles into your hand.

“No, they won’t,” you whisper back.

*

The familiar hum of the engine does little to relax you. You’ve given up on sleeping by now, and are just waiting for Maul to finish his call with his master, while your legs lean against the wall and your head hangs upside down from the edge of the bed.

You wouldn’t want to be in Maul’s shoes now - having to tell his master that he failed to kill the Jedi. Actually, you wouldn't want to be in his shoes in the first place; being an apprentice to Sidious seems dreadful enough.

The two of you took off only a few hours after the Jedi left, and as soon as you left the atmosphere, Maul contacted his master. He’s been talking to him in the cockpit ever since, for at least ten minutes now.

The lift doors opening makes you peer to the right, still upside down.

“We are heading- What are you doing?” He looks slightly perplexed.

“I don’t really know,” you admit, stretching out your arms to meet the floor and swiftly rolling off the bed to look at him from a standing position.

“Where are we headed?”

“Naboo. The Trade Federation is taking complete control of the planet and my master foresees that their queen will return there soon. For the time being, we will stay in the palace in Theed.”

“The palace?” You raise your eyebrows. “Not bad. Haven’t slept in a proper _bed_ in forever.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “It will certainly be a pleasant change.”

You wonder if you will share a room. _You_ would like to. Are you two at that stage yet? What’s considered a ‘bed-sharing’ stage? You wouldn’t know, and you doubt it’s something that Sidious taught Maul.

Guess you will just have to let it surprise you when you’re there.

You have to admit; Naboo does have its charm. From what you can see flying over the planet, there’s big lakes, torrential rivers and green forests as far as the eye can see. The settlements you have seen so far all looked small, but far from poor.

You almost feel sorry you’re partaking in the plot to take over their system. Almost.

The capital, Theed, tops it all off. Even you, uncultured as you are, are able to admire the stunning architecture as you close in on the landing platform, but your attention is quickly stolen by the two figures you can make out walking towards the ship, escorted by a group of battle droids.

“The viceroy, and his lieutenant,” Maul utters, still maneuvering the ship for the landing.

“So, on a scale from one to ten, how nice do we need to be to them?”

Maul snorts.

“Let’s put it this way: They need us more than we need them.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

You can feel their eyes on you as the ramp descends, and you don’t need the force to know that they are scared; their postures give it away.

Both you and Maul have got your hoods on, and you hope it will be effective in keeping an air of mystery around you: You have no interest in anyone getting the idea that you are at least a little bit approachable - all of these dirty politicians can stay away from you. Most likely, Maul’s mere presence should accomplish that, but you still like to make your own impression on them.

“Lord Maul, it is our honor to have you here.” Nute Gunray speaks a heavily Neimoidian accented Basic, that is the first thing you notice. The second thing is the way he holds himself; basically cowering before Maul, his whole body language speaking of submission. It is not the appearance of a leader, in your opinion. But, then again, what do you know about politics?

Their gazes are lingering on you, before Gunray resumes speaking.

“We were unaware that you would bring company. Should we prepare another room- ”

“That won’t be necessary,” Maul brushes him off in a dark tone that allows no questions.

“Very well, my Lord.”

So you _are_ at the ‘bed-sharing’ stage. That’s good to know.

Maul sets a fast pace to the end of the landing platform, and it’s entertaining to watch the two Neimoidians struggle to keep up with him despite their much longer legs (their fancy robes are holding them up).

They lead you inside to a lavish conference room, where they start briefing Maul on the situation of the planet. Time and time again you feel Gunray stare at you, his unspoken question up in the air: _Is this woman to be trusted?_

You just stare right back, almost daring him to voice his concern out loud and see what happens.

He doesn’t.

You have yet to say a single word, but the Neimoidian’s constant looks your way start to annoy you.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Viceroy?” You snap.

The man flinches visibly.

“Respectfully, madam, who are you?” He finally asks.

Good question.

 _‘Well I_ used _to be a contract killer, but now I work for Lord Sidious and occasionally make out with his apprentice,’_ may not be an appropriate answer.

Maul shoots you an amused glance that goes unnoticed by the others and speaks up for you.

“We work together.”

 _‘Oh, is that what it is?’,_ you think.

You didn’t expect to hear his voice in your head again, so his reply surprises you.

 _‘You’re feisty today.’_ The corner of his mouth twitches subtly.

Gunray seems to take the hint to not push the matter any further, and continues to explain their moves against local resistance to the invasion. None of it is of much interest to you, so for the next hour or so, you mostly tune out, only listening up whenever the queen and her Jedi protectors are mentioned.

Finally, they seem to wrap it up.

“A droid will show you to your quarters.” The Neimoidian tilts his head as a sign of respect before retreating.

A silver service droid awaits you at the door and starts leading you and Maul through the palace with a low speed that you otherwise would have been irritated by, but it gives you a chance to appreciate your surroundings, so you’re okay with it.

The sun is setting outside, and its rays illuminate the high corridors gently, painting every wall in gold. The setting gives the place an almost magical aura, and it's easy to be entranced by the ceiling-high paintings and statues of queens long gone.

The droid slows to a halt before a large wooden door, its metal torso awkwardly bowing to you before it turns around and leaves you.

The room that’s been designated to you is vast and extravagant, equipped with an ornamented desk in front of a high window, right next to a balcony with a view over the waterfalls that fall from the palace into a lake. A large table that could very well fit over ten people is decorated with an intricately embroidered tablecloth (though you’re not quite sure why anyone would want that many people in what is basically their bedroom).

A door to your left leads to a bigger refresher than you’ve ever been in your entire life, and to your right- Well, to your right, there’s the _bed._

It looks more luxurious and comfortable than anything you’ve ever owned. _Never_ have you slept in a bed that allowed you to spread out your arms all the way, and you’ve most certainly never slept on a mattress that even from afar looks this soft.

It makes you wonder how weirdly your life has changed.

“To your liking?”

Maul’s smooth voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you hum in approval, though your mind is not quite at ease yet.

“So the plan remains unchanged? You take the Jedi on by yourself the next time we encounter them?” You burst out, unable to contain the conflict inside you anymore.

“Nothing has changed. If it weren’t for their luck, I would have killed them already.” He sounds grim.

You grimace. “Waiting for you to come back on Tatooine was a nightmare, Maul. I thought you got hurt or worse and… I’m not sure I can do it again.”

“I won’t get hurt,” he says insistently.

You throw up your hands in exasperation.

“That’s easy for you to say! But when you’re out there, things happen so _fast_. And…” your voice becomes a little more timid. “isn’t my purpose kind of to … support you?”

“Your _purpose,_ ” he draws out the word as if it were an insult, “is to _live_. And when you’re there with the Jedi, I can’t ensure that.”

“Fine. Whatever,” you huff, still not content.

“You understand this is to your protection, right?” Maul takes a few steps toward you. “If you got hurt, I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Technically,” you give him a sheepish smile, “I’ve gotten hurt on multiple occasions already.”

Shaking his head at you, he retorts: “You know what I mean.”

He is close enough now to extend his hand and brush his knuckles against your cheek. Despite your desperate attempts to stay angry, you can’t help but lean into the touch.

“I knowwhat you’re capable of,” he whispers, crossing what little space there is left between the two of you. “But I worry.”

“You think I don’t?” Your retaliation sounds as weak as your resolution is.

“You shouldn’t.” He leans in to kiss you, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer.

The feeling of his lips on yours makes you forget about the argument, forget about the approaching threat and all other problems. Slinging one arm around his neck, you try to elongate this moment, wishing you could stay like this forever and just ignore all your responsibilities. Your other hand flies up to the back of his head, moving around a bit before settling around a perfectly curved horn, your thumb circling around the base absentmindedly. You aren’t even aware of what you’re doing until the feeling of Maul’s lips changes, the tiniest of moans falling from them. Your eyes open in surprise, just barely catching the way his eyelids flutter in pleasure. Unintentionally, you freeze your movements, causing him to snap out of the haze, his eyes giving away his own surprise at the reaction to the touch.

Before he can say anything, you start rubbing the base again, all the while keeping eye contact, curiously watching for his response to your little experiment.

Canines flash as he bites his lip, seemingly trying to suppress any more unintentional noises. His breaths, short and ragged, fan over your face as he stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.

Your own breath catches in your throat at the sudden turn from romantic to sexual, making you painfully aware of the aching need you have felt for so many rotations now.

Maul leans in again, lips brushing over your ear, whispering:

“If you keep doing this, I may not be able to control myself much longer.”

You are trembling with anticipation, your own breaths getting shallow. “I’ll take that risk.”

His lips are back on yours in a heartbeat, the kiss filled with desire and need this time. His hands move from your back to the front of your body, applying just enough pressure to make you take a few steps back, until you are met with the wooden frame of the bed. Another gentle push sends you falling onto the mattress that you were fantasizing about just minutes ago.

You barely have time to lament the absence of his touch when he is already on top of you, lips attaching to your exposed neck while he uses one hand to hold himself up, the other digging into your hip. Hot fingers slip under your black undershirt, pushing it up and over your head, forcing him to briefly disconnect from your bare skin, only to return with even more determination as he starts sucking and leaving his mark on you.

This has been a long time coming and neither of you is willing to wait a second longer.

You bring your hand up to tug at the black robe that is still hiding his muscular body from your view, him taking the hint and taking it off at a supernatural speed, finally allowing you to admire the tattooed skin.

Your hand comes in contact with the hot skin on his chest, travelling down to feel each muscle rippling under it, while invisible hands pull on your already loosely fitting pants, getting them off without a problem. Very real and beautifully masculine hands work on ridding you of the thin strip of fabric covering up your breasts.

He takes a moment to let his eyes take in your now very sparsely clothed form, eyes lingering longer in some places than others. You are feeling a deep need you’ve never experienced before, writhing underneath him, desperate for him to just touch you again.

“How curious,” he remarks.

“What?” You ask, your voice breathy.

“A woman of so many skills,” he muses, “yet a novice here.” Your cheeks redden at his notice of your sexual inexperience.

“It’s never been - _oh_ ” You are interrupted by an involuntary gasp as his hand cups your breast, fingers circling around the nipple while he tilts his head, waiting for you to finish the sentence. “It’s never been a priority,” you struggle to form the words, but it’s the truth: Relationships were forbidden and you have never had much interest in going home with some Kessel dirtbag.

This is different, and already _much better_ than you could have imagined.

“Do not worry, pretty girl,” his voice is close to your ear as he bows down. “I’ll take good care of you”

Goosebumps rise on your skin despite the heat you’re feeling as his hand trails down your side, his mouth right above your collarbone, nibbling and sucking and definitely leaving another well visible mark on you. The action, combined with the touch on your breast, elicits a delicate moan from you, a sound so intimate and sexual you never thought you could make.

His mouth dips lower, tongue replacing his fingers on your breast, while one hand disappears inside your panties. One finger drags between your folds, spreading the slickness over his digit and making you gasp at the foreign touch, then proceeding by circling his thumb right over your most sensitive spot.

Finally he inserts one finger into you, moving it in and out slowly, testingly. The sensation has you electrified with pleasure, inhaling sharply.

He looks up to you to watch for your reaction when he adds a second finger, curling them inside of you, letting out a satisfied hum when another gasp escapes your lips, while he makes quick work of ripping your panties off of you entirely, before suddenly depriving you of his wondrous fingers inside you, causing you to whimper.

“Why did you sto-“ Your jaw falls slack as unexpectedly, his face is between your thighs, his incredibly hot tongue going straight to licking a generous stripe up from your opening to the sensitive bundle of nerves, where it starts doing a circular motion, waves of pleasure making you fist the sheets beside you, and you can no longer fight the sounds coming from your mouth. You moan loudly, immediately clasping a hand over your lips to silence the sinful sound.

A guttural growl comes from the zabrak who snatches your wrist and presses it back against the mattress while his other hand grips tightly on your thigh. “Let me hear you.”

You become a moaning mess, gasping and twitching while his tongue is working you, applying pressure to your clit and occasionally going lower to plunge into you.

“Oh, Maul, I - _ah-_ I’m gonna” A high whimper interrupts you as the feeling of an oncoming release makes your back arch involuntarily. You feel like you need to move, do something or hold on to something as your orgasm finally takes over your body, starting with a tingle in your toes and ending with hoarse moans in your throat, specks of white appearing in your field of vision.

His tongue doesn’t relent while your body shutters, letting the feeling of ecstasy wash over you while he is still sucking and lapping at your sex.

Your muscles relax and your body collapses back onto the mattress, still in a sort of trance after your climax.

Maul pushes himself up to sit back between your legs, scanning your nude body with hungry eyes, your heaving chest, flushed cheeks, ruffled hair -

His lips collide with yours once more when he moves back up, the taste of you on his tongue and one hand tugging down his black pants.

Despite your quickly recovering arousal, combined with the post orgasm haze, your brain still manages to conjure up one thought:

 _‘Are our anatomies compatible?’_ After all, you’re human and he is a zabrak- Who knows what reproduction looks like with them?

His chuckle shows you that he has been listening to your thoughts again, and you don’t mind. Voice close to a purr, he responds.

“Oh, I’ll _show_ you how compatible they are, my sweet.”

He has completely ridded himself of all clothing now, and he is a sight to behold; black tattoos spanning over toned muscles, not a single body hair and _maker-_

He is going to split you in half.

Arms braced on either side of your head, he lowers himself onto you until you feel his tip grazing your still sensitive core.

Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck that is still hovering above you, partly to hold on to him, partly to pull him closer.

Slowly, and with such care one could think you are made of glass, he enters you. At first just the head, then a little bit further, a groan falling from his lips. Your head lolls to the side.

“This okay?” His voice sounds uncharacteristically throaty.

“Yeah” you whisper, wanting more despite the sting of being stretched out like this - lust has replaced any and every thought you could have.

You whimper when he pushes himself in deeper, filling you up until the skin of his hip touches yours. Head thrown back, you feel like you’re drowning in the sensation of being filled up to the brim, pleasure overwhelming your senses. He stills, allowing you to adjust, before he slowly starts moving again, one hand sliding down to hold your hips in place, as he fills you up again and again. Your moans become higher pitched when his tip hits such a wondrous spot inside of you that leaves your toes tingling and all bad thoughts and worries disappear from your mind. You catch yourself losing all awareness of the present, your entire focus on the coil inside you that’s getting closer and closer to unwinding.

All of a sudden he pulls out all the way and grabs your hips, flipping you onto your stomach, but keeping his hands in place and holding your hips in the air, knocking the air out of your lungs by thrusting from behind now, going faster, deeper, and now letting himself let out quiet moans of his own. One hand moves up and down your arched back in an almost soothing manner, and you are getting closer and closer to giving in to the crash wave of euphoria lurking in a corner of your mind.

You hardly even register that he is hooking an arm around your torso until your back is pulled flush against his chest and his body heat is enveloping you while your moans become more ragged and desperate as you close in on your second orgasm.

You can’t form the words to tell him, but you know he can sense it too, because his thrusts pick up speed and his own breathing is growing more erratic.

Your high is reached with a broken cry, a shockwave of pleasure shaking your body and making you tighten around Maul, in turn causing him to pull you even closer, if possible, and bite down on your shoulder, sharp incisors drawing a little blood but somehow only adding to your pleasure, while you - worn out and almost overstimulated - go limp, only held up by his steel grip on your torso and thigh, being shaken by every fast-paced thrust.

“Shit, where do- can I-“

“Yeah,” you’re completely out of breath, but your permission is quickly acknowledged.

He twitches inside of you, then hot liquid fills you up, testimony of his own orgasm. He still ruts his hips into yours two, three more times to ride out his high, before pulling out and allowing your tired body to fall back onto the mattress, collapsing right next to you himself.

For a few minutes, only the sound of your mixed breaths fill the room.

Then, tentatively, one strong arm is draped over your still nude form, pulling you against his warm chest. From behind you, you can feel his breath catch in his throat as he freezes, then proceeds to wipe his thumb over the place where he bit down, catching the small droplet of blood.

“I hurt you,” he states, shock and worry resonating in his voice.

“You didn’t. Really, I didn’t mind,” your words are laced with sleepiness, the heat his body is radiating making you feel safe and comfortable.

“I didn’t mean to hurt-“

You shift, turning to face him, or rather his chest from your position. Angling your head upwards, you do your best to look into his eyes.

“You didn’t hurt me. Stop worrying.”

He breathes out slowly, cradling your head with one hand and pulling it closer to his chest. Your legs entangle, and the position feels so natural, so right, that your mind just relaxes completely for the first time in months, in _years_.

The last thing you know is the sensation of Maul’s hand softly stroking your hair, then sleep takes over your body.

It’s warm.

Maul’s naturally higher body heat feels like a furnace when you wake up in the middle of the night, not used to sleeping for longer periods of time - Kessel used to have shorter days due to the speed of its rotations, so sleeping for one night only really meant sleeping five to six hours.

You are almost still in the same position that you fell asleep in, except for now, a very low rumble right where your head lies on his chest accompanies the silence. It’s a sound akin to … purring?

You hold your breath to take in the sound, and come to the conclusion that your zabrak lover indeed is purring in his sleep. Warmth blossoms in your chest at his response to just being… content. And to think you could have contributed to that state?

Needless to say, the purr feels like the most beautiful, sweet melody that has ever met your ears.

As carefully as you can, you untangle yourself from his embrace and pad over to the refresher, collecting your underwear on the way.

The woman you find staring back at you through the mirror looks… strange.

Your cheeks are an unusual rosy color, your usually tied up hair is ruffled and _maker,_ you are covered in so many more hickeys than you remember him leaving during the act. There’s also a very visible bite mark on your shoulder that brings back the memory of the very moment that Maul reached his release and created the mark you are looking at right now. The tiny hairs on your arm stand up as you recall the feeling of him coming inside you, that moment of the deepest intimacy imaginable.

Both of you had been so wiped out afterwards that you didn’t really bother cleaning up, but now you decide it’s time for you to wash off the sticky substance that’s been leaking out between your legs.

The shower, too, is more spacious than the entire refresher in your old apartment on Kessel was, and you don’t even have to wait for the water to run hot. Besides that, you’re pretty sure it won’t suddenly switch from almost boiling hot to ice cold, which is definitely a plus.

You start washing yourself with one of the many soaps aligned on the shelf, enjoying the way it has an actually nice smell as opposed to your go-to soap that really only smelled… clean?

Perhaps you’ll swipe this one before you leave.

You haven’t even gotten to soap yourself up completely, when you hear the door open and close, followed by footsteps heading towards you, but it’s only when a gentle hand touches your back that you turn your head to greet your sleepy lover.

“Did I wake you up?”

He shakes his head in response, then mumbles: “I don’t usually sleep long.”

Still standing behind you, crimson hands slide down your arms to find your fingers, scooping up the soap and very carefully starting to spread it over your body, starting on the tattoos on your stomach and moving on to your sides, slowly drawing circles upward. His chin rests on your shoulder while his hands find your backside, moving lower again and snarking back around to your front, this time dipping further down and spreading the soap on the inside of your thighs, washing his own release off your skin.

The entire act is more domestic than sexual in its nature, but you can’t cover up the way your breath hitches a little when his hand travels just a bit further up, barely grazing your core.

“Oh?” He sounds much more awake suddenly, as well as more mischievous. “Should I keep going?”

“Please,” you breathe out. Your voice is barely audible over the noise of the water running, but he must have heard you because his arm pulls you closer to his chest and his other hand returns right where you want it, using his palm to apply slight pressure, then beginning to rub small and sensual circles.

Your head rolls back onto his shoulder as you allow yourself to be immersed in the pleasure, eyes falling closed when you sigh in bliss. The hot water makes the sensation spread through your entire being, one gratified moan escaping your lips when he finds the motion that has your knees give in and your toes curl.

“Ah, like that,” You are hardly even holding yourself up anymore, blindly reaching behind you to hold on to his neck for leverage.

Faster than ever, you feel your orgasm boil up in your belly while he just keeps on relentlessly rubbing your clit in the most pleasurable way, as if he was so in tune with your body that he knows what your specific, individual preferences are.

Maybe it’s a force thing.

Whatever it is, it’s working.

You open your eyes just as the high hits you, filling them with raw feelings, hips grinding against his hand while at the same time trying to push yourself closer against him.

His yellow eyes are still half lidded while he watches your entire body quiver in his embrace before your muscles relax again and you slouch against his chest, breathing heavily.

“I’ll leave you to finish in here now,” Carefully, he peels his arms from your form, setting them on your hips to steady you before eventually exiting the shower.

You lean against the wall, closing your eyes with the water running over your face and exhale slowly.

After tonight, there is one thing you are sure of: You trust Maul. You trust him to protect you, you trust him to see you in such a vulnerable state, and you would walk into a battle blindfolded if he told you that was necessary.

The realization is not as much a surprise as it is an understanding. You aren’t in love with him.

You love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> notes: I have sinned,,,, but I don’t care cause I’m a heathen 😗✌🏻 literally though, writing this was so hard because i kept on zoning out lmao  
> I don’t know if you can tell, but that last part was originally meant to be part of the next chapter, but I decided to add it to this one because I had the feeling it wouldn’t fit into the general mood of the next one.  
> hope you enjoyed this <3


	14. The Survival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Advance: This is going to be the last chapter of part 1! Read the End Notes for my plans for the future!

The morning air is chilly on your bare arms. Elbows leaning on the balustrade, you stare at the masses of water. They’re constantly in motion, never in one place for too long, yet still essentially the same wherever they are.

You never held much love for your guild, not for the people part of it and not for what they made you - a killer, cold, but not cold-blooded enough to not care. Dangerous enough for people to be wary of you, but not menacing enough to command people. You hold power, but only over yourself, and even that doesn’t seem to be yours entirely.

No, you don’t like the guild, but you can't imagine a life outside of the path they chose for you; there is not much you’re good at outside of fighting and murdering. Whatever you do, you always seem to revert to the same old ways.

“What’s on your mind?”

You didn’t hear Maul join you on the balcony, but seeing him stand next to you from the corner of your eye pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Just thinking. Lots of ‘What ifs’, nothing worth mentioning.”

He hums quietly.

“I sometimes wonder what would have been if I hadn’t been made what I am now. If I had been born free.”

It’s easier to talk like this when you are able to just stare off into the distance, not having to face anyone.

He doesn’t stop you, so you keep talking.

“Maybe I would be a bounty hunter. Live on my own terms, don’t rely on authorities but do things myself.”

“It would fit your skills,” he agrees.

You shrug. “Maybe in another life. I am with you now, and I intend on staying. That is,” you face him, “as long as you want me to.”

“Do you truly still question that?” The corner of his mouth twitches in a hint of a smile.

“I’m just making sure,” you mumble. “To be honest, I don’t know what I’d do if I were alone. This galaxy is too big to travel on your own.”

He looks at the sky in thought, blinking slowly.

“I won’t leave you alone.”

*

Morning came around faster than you expected it to. A service droid knocked on your door to drop off trays with food shortly after the sunset, delivering the first _real_ food you’ve had in weeks.

It’s strangely casual to eat at that table with Maul; it doesn’t feel like you two are currently taking over a system, while also waging a war against the Jedi.

“I don’t like the Naboo… but their fruit is good,” you admit while the sweetness fills your mouth.

“Is it?”

“Try it,” you push your plate over to him, but he pushes it back without taking a piece.

“My species is carnivorous,” he explains, exposing his prominent canines to illustrate his point.

“Huh,” you tilt your head. How come you didn’t know that?

“You’re missing out, then.”

His nose crunches up in disgust. “It doesn’t seem all that appealing.”

When he moves his face like that, the black inking on his nose gives him a very youthful look, and you have the terrible urge to boop his nose.

Where are those thoughts coming from all of a sudden?

You just shake your head, proceeding to munch on the vast array of fruit, perfectly content with your choice of food.

“Gunray expects us in an hour for another briefing. We will then wait for my master to give us more intel on the plan of the queen, then we will come up with a strategy. It is likely we will have another encounter with her and her _protectors_ soon.”

You sigh quietly, already dreading the moment you have to let him walk into a duel again. “Yeah.”

You just hope it won’t be so soon.

*

“We are sending all troops to meet this army assembling near the swamp. It appears to be made up of primitives.”

The blue hologram sways with the movement of the droid projecting it into the air.

“This will work to our advantage,” Lord Sidious remarks.

“I have your approval to proceed, then, my Lord?” The Neimoidian sounds nervous, not just because of your and Maul’s presence anymore, but also because of the hooded man speaking to him. You can’t blame him; Sidious gives you, too, a queasy feeling in your stomach.

“Wipe them out,” Sidious orders. “All of them.”

The transmission ends, and with it the tenseness in your muscles.

“They will try to use the battle as a diversion,” Maul points out.

“We shall prepare droid forces in the palace and ready ourselves for a possible ambush,” Gunray agrees, bowing to him. “And we can monitor the situation in the palace from the surveillance room.”

He leads the way along with his lieutenant, Maul and you following with a distance.

“He is concerned for his personal safety,” Maul murmurs, so that only you can hear it. “He fears they will capture him and hold him accountable.”

You lean in but don’t take your eyes off the billowing robes of the green skinned politician.

“He does seem like a coward.”

You barely manage to suppress a yelp when suddenly, he grabs your arm and pulls you behind a pillar, hidden from the view of the two oblivious men still walking.

His lips clash into yours with an urgency you can’t quite comprehend, while he pushes you into the stone of the pillar.

The surprise at his sudden display of affection hardly gives you time to enjoy it, and he pulls away much too fast.

“I… just got a feeling,” his eyes look troubled.

“A force-feeling?” You inquire, already knowing the answer.

A small nod confirms your guess.

“Should I be worried?”

He scans your face for a second.

“You already are. But no, you should not,”

“Well,” looking over his shoulder, you see the men have almost rounded the next corner, “I think we need to catch up with our green friends.”

He nods, but doesn’t pull away from you for another moment, something else hiding behind his glowing eyes, something you’re not sure you want to understand.

Everything is going to be alright. It has to.

*

“I thought the battle was going to take place far from here. This is too close!”

Your eyes are glued to the screen, which has just changed to an overview over the yard, where blasterfire can be heard from a distance, tanks smoking and exploding.

You track the movement of the attackers, trying to anticipate their next destination. Until now, the Jedi have been mowing through the droids as if it were nothing, slowly and steadily bringing down the palace’s defenses. The group of politicians in the room is growing anxious, and rightfully so.

“The hangar,” you finally pipe up, watching the men pile through an entrance on the west side. “They are headed for the hangar!”

“If they get a hold of the starfighters they could issue an attack on the droid control ship and shut down our army!” The viceroy exclaims, dread lacing his voice.

“We must move now.” Maul decides. “Focus your forces on the hangar.”

“But they do nothing against the Jedi, as long as-”

“I will take care of the Jedi.”

_So this is it._

Secretly, you have been hoping the droids would be enough to finish the Jedi. A foolish, naive wish, but still, there is disappointment swirling in your blend of emotions.

“We should evacuate this room… To the throne room!” the lieutenant suggests, watching as another tank blows up.

The mood in the surveillance room shifts - the politicians didn’t expect to get caught up in an actual battle when they came here.

“I will stay here,” you quietly notify Maul.

 _It’s the only way I can still watch over you,_ remains unsaid.

The doors open and the people start to crowd out, Maul following last, waiting until the last man has turned his back to you two. Again, something is in the air, something that he is sensing but not telling you.

“See you in a bit?” You ask timidly.

“Yes,” His gloved hand brings you into his chest, your ear right over his jugular where you hear his steady pulse. The sound of life. You wish you would never hear anything else again. One hand holds your head close, the other intertwines your fingers briefly.

“Yes,” he repeats, with more resolve this time around.

It physically pains you when you have to let go, but you both know that you have to.

You keep yourself from watching his retreating form, telling yourself that you are overreacting and imagining a goodbye where there is only a “see you later”.

You click through the holocam views until you have found a good view on the hangar.

A full on shootout is happening, and several starfighters have already taken off. Droids are falling left and right, cut in half or hit by a deflected blaster bolt.

There is no sound, but it is clear they are speaking to each other now, planning their next steps. They start moving to the gate, but when it opens, it reveals none other than… Maul.

Looking as menacing as the first time you met him, he makes the group freeze in place. Your fingers tremble, knowing that a fight for life and death is about to start.

So much to lose… and what is to win? For you, it doesn’t matter if the Trade Federation will be able to have some kind of treaty with Naboo. You don’t even care if there will be two Jedi less to travel the galaxy; All you really want is for Maul to make it out of there alive.

The people surrounding the Jedi run through a smaller exit on the side, but it’s obvious that Maul is far past caring about anything other than the two targets before him. He removes his hood and drops his robe at the same time that the Jedi do, not once looking away from them. Even through a low resolution, flickering screen, the tension is evident.

With a practiced twirl, Maul ignites first one end of his red lightsaber, then the other, balancing it in front of his body.

The two Jedi follow his example and present their blue and green blades.

For a moment, it’s as if time stands still, the only indication of its progress your heartbeat thumping in your ears.

And then, the duel begins.

You wince, unable to breathe while watching the flurry of blue, green and red. They move much too fast for you to follow with your eyes, yet you can’t peel your eyes off the screen. It feels as though even blinking will cause you to miss something, and you can’t, you _cannot_ miss even a second of this fight. What if he gets injured, or worse, while you’re not looking?

The duel moves closer to the generator complex. You watch the men balance and jump over narrow catwalks: A drop from this height would be deadly, and that’s without two men with lightsabers viciously attacking you.

You suck in a sharp breath when Maul manages to catapult the Jedi who looks like what they call a ‘padawan’ over the edge with a kick behind his back.

For the fraction of a second, you take your eyes off your lover and instead watch the blond man fall, huffing in disappointment when he manages to hold on to a ledge.

The next moment, Maul himself is sent flying, fortunately landing on a lower catwalk. He narrowly blocks the next attacks while still on his back, and you heave out a sigh of relief when he is back on his feet, out of the vulnerable position.

They get closer to the edge of what the holocam can capture, and you fumble with the keypad for a few seconds to get a better view.

When the different angle appears, everything is tinted red. It takes you a minute to understand that you’re looking at red force fields that separate the power generator room from the rest of the palace. Maul and the Jedi are on different sides of the fields, putting a pause on the intense fight. The Jedi master is meditating, while your Sith is pacing up and down like a wild animal, like a predator.

They must feel a change in the force, because simultaneously, they ignite their sabers again, just seconds before the force fields retract row by row. Immediately, the Jedi master is back on Maul, both of them moving backwards, inching closer to another deep drop, something that looks like a reactor shaft.

The padawan is once again separated by a force field, shuffling to a halt right before it closes. Both of you are stuck watching your partners fight; and what a fight it is. The exchange is faster than ever this time, yet everything seems to slow down to slow motion when Maul stuns the Jedi by knocking the handle of his lightsaber against the man’s head, then rams the blade right through his chest.

Your entire body relaxes in your seat. Just one more to go, this shouldn’t be a problem. Everything is going to be alright now. He has killed one of them, all that’s left is the padawan. Yeah, this won’t be a challenge. You’ll be reunited in no time and-

The field retracts once more and like a beast set loose, the padawan charges at Maul. It is an incredibly fast paced fight, faster than with the master, so fast that you have to force your eyes to focus on the spectacle.

A small gasp escapes you when his lightsaber is cut in half, one half flying off to the side, the other remaining in his hand when he is pushed on his back again.

“Get up, get up,” you mumble, watching as the padawan flips over him. Maul, of course, jumps back up before the other man can land any strikes, elegantly evading his attacks.

Their sabers clash, interlocking for a second, then Maul pushes the padawan back, using the force to shove him over the edge, sending him falling a few feet down the shaft, where he just barely manages to hold on to a pipe.

From your angle, the ground partially obscures your vision on the man, but an early sense of victory fills you. Now, you two will be able to leave and make your own decisions. You’ve proven your worth, and now-

Your skin feels numb.

You are still breathing, but there is no oxygen reaching your lungs. Reality seems so far away, so disconnected, as you stare. You stare and watch the Jedi padawan leap, summoning his master’s abandoned lightsaber, flying over Maul’s head.

And then, suddenly, Maul is falling.

Your body goes cold, then hot, then back to cold, bile rising up your throat.

A shaking hand clasps over your mouth, and it’s only then that you realize that your entire body is shaking.

Your vision blurs, all you can see is the padawan running to the body of his master, crouching down next to it.

Maul is just… gone. Disappeared, down the reactor shaft. How could this happen?

_It’s not true, it’s not true, he can’t die, it can’t be,-_

Trembling, your breaths coming out short, accompanied by a desperate sob, your fingers find the keypad again, and you rewind the footage. You have to see it again, you just have to, despite already knowing what’s coming.

The padawan jumps, Maul turns, the green blade slices right through his stomach.

You rewind again, and the same footage plays out in front of your eyes.

You rewind again, and again, until the images are burned into the back of your head. When you bury your face in your hands, instead of darkness, the same images welcome you. There is no escape from your emotions, but you still try.

You don’t know where you’re going, all you know is that you need to get away. The sounds of blasterfire still echo in the corridors, but they are far away.

You wish they were here.

You wish you weren’t alone.

Passing a statue that looks familiar, your sense of orientation returns to you. If you turn left here, you should reach the hangar.

But do you really want to? _Can_ you?

No, you can’t. You’ll break down, that much is certain, but do you have a choice? Could you live with yourself, not having gone to look with your own two eyes?

You pass multiple piles of droid remains, and some dead bodies clad in the maroon color of the Naboo guard, which does little to soothe your sorrow.

The hangar, too, is deserted, and you head straight for the high gate that you watched the men disappear through just minutes ago. Before everything changed.

The gate opens after you press a button on the control panel and you fall into a sprint to the generator. There is a glimmer of stupid, unreasonable, unjustified hope in you still, and the closer you get to the scene, the faster you run.

You round a corner and immediately crash into someone, stumbling backwards and barely catching yourself before falling.

Your jaw drops.

The man before your eyes is the Jedi padawan, the one who took _everything_ , the one who killed Maul, staring at you with wide eyes as if he hadn’t just destroyed your life.

Behind him lies the body of his master - he must have dropped it when you ran into him.

He still hasn’t moved, and neither have you. He could kill you, quite easily probably, with as distraught you are. Maybe he _should_ \- it certainly would be more pleasant than Darth Sidious deciding to dispose of you. The thought alone sends you into another fit of shivers.

The padawan holds your stare for another moment, then he lifts his master’s body again and staggers past you.

You watch him leave in shock. He is not going to fight you? He is not going to even ask you why you are running towards the reactor? And you? Shouldn’t you at least _try_ to get revenge for what he did? The killer of the one person you _loved_ is right here _, and you are letting him get away just like that._

But you are a survivor. You have always been.

And if letting the Jedi get away means you will live to see another day, then so be it. You will survive purely out of spite, and one day, you will get revenge.

You start running again, until the reactor shaft appears in your vision.

And of course he is not there. How would he? You watched him die, how could your desperate mind even let you think he might still be there, alive, hanging on to a pipe just like the _Jedi_ did?

You sink to your knees, the tears running freely now, and you feel so, so alone in the universe.

You will live, if only to live the days that were taken from him. There is still fire glowing in your chest, and the looming darkness that being alone presents will not be able to extinguish it.

 _‘Your purpose,’_ his voice resounds in your head, _‘is to live.’_

When he said that, you thought he meant that you are of no use to the cause if you are dead.

Not, that should he die, you shall live.

“I will live,” Your whisper echoes through the air, the only answer you get the repetition of your own words, combined with dry sobs from somewhere deep in your chest.

You will live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Angst!! That's always fun :)))  
> I have already started planning and mapping out my ideas for a part two that's set during the Clone Wars era. I plan on posting a little teaser (which is going to be "chapter 15") on here soon, but the story itself is still going to take some time. Also, my classes are starting again, so I don't know how much time I'm going to have.  
> I already have so many ideas for things I could do in a part II, and I'm really excited to share them in the near future :)  
> Thank you to everyone who has read this. It means the world to me when I hear somebody likes what my garbage brain produces.  
> All comments/messages (my tumblr is also @ bonesaldente) are welcome anytime <3


	15. Part II Announcement

Hello everyone!

I know it’s been a little while, but I can finally (proudly) announce that Chapter 1 of Part II will be published on my profile this week (well technically, since it’s Sunday, next week but you get the idea)! It’s set during the Clone Wars and directly connects to the episode “Eminence”, just as a heads up in case you haven’t watched the show this far :) 

I hope you all have a great day - I am very excited to be sharing this next book with you <3


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